


New Fears

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action and Drama, Angel!Prompto, Angel/Demon AU, Angels, Angst and Fluff, Demon!Noctis, Demons, M/M, Supernatural Creatures, Supernatural Elements, Supernatural Hunters, Temporary Character Death, Vampires, Wendigo, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-02 20:31:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14552946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When you come undone, I'll carry your chains, so you can feel freedom and a little less pain.And if the poison burns in your blood, I'll drink the venom out of the cut...Two hundred years ago, Prompto Argentum and Noctis Lucis Caelum were rather successful supernatural hunters.  They took out creatures all over Eos and, though they stayed under the radar, had a name for themselves as saviors of humanity.  That is... until it all went wrong.





	1. It Was Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _you won't see them right away, but you'll hear them singing._  
>  _hold me closely now but don't, don't say anything._  
>  _they've come to take me away, and won't leave until i'm gone._  
> [it was mine](https://open.spotify.com/track/7b9BVSztKv3SZcI7RF5vjN?si=xSdcB41lTM-34WCh9zRYdA) ;; afi  
>  [ [youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqtY8FwervQ) ]

Noctis wasn't even remotely sure how the situation had gotten this bad.

Okay, that was a lie. A pretty big lie, actually. He knew exactly where they went wrong, and the whole rest of the team would be pissed at him if they ever found out about this. Their first mistake was going into a vampire den, just the two of them, with no backup. The problem was, though, that their choices were limited. Through his binoculars, Noctis saw the group getting ready to move. They were packing their den, preparing to leave and head to another unknown location. If they managed that, then all of the searching, all of the trails that the group had followed up until this point would be for nothing. They'd all put way too much work into this, just to lose the trail because they hesitated.

Prompto was a little bit more hesitant. Honestly, Prompto was _always_ a little bit more hesitant. Noctis was bad at resisting following his gut. Prompto was sort of the angel on his shoulder. His partner always liked to make sure they were prepared—sometimes _over_ -prepared—before they made any move whatsoever.

Still, somehow, Noctis had managed to convince him that they needed to go right away. Prompto didn't want to lose all the research, all the work, any more than Noctis did. With that decided, the pair of them rushed to the den, trying to stick to cover, no matter how fruitless they knew it was. Vampires had heightened senses, after all. They'd be able to smell a pair of humans coming from miles away. As it turned out, they were prepared. They had lines of defense.

Even so, the whole den was a _relatively_ easy fight. Easier than Noctis would've expected it to be under the circumstances, anyway. Garlic spray and crossbows at the ready, they'd taken out the first three vampires that rushed them the second they got through the door. More followed shortly thereafter, but it was still smooth like that, and they took out whoever came at them. Until they breached the first room, anyway, and one of the vampires jumped down to a lower level to alert the others. The second they heard the echoing of footsteps coming up from the bottom floor was the second that they realized how much trouble they were in. At the sight of the first vampire, Noctis grabbed Prompto by the arm, turned, and retreated back toward the forest.

Running through a forest, though, wasn't exactly the best place to be when running from vampires. Vampires had speed and agility to their advantage, and Noctis knew. Noctis knew that it was only a matter of time before the vampires caught up to them. They would be fine. They just needed to keep going—to keep moving—and they'd get out of this just fine. In one piece. Alive. Noctis was sure of it. There was no other choice.

Except, that was the exact moment when he realized that Prompto was no longer running beside him.

Screeching to a halt in the middle of the forest, Noctis stumbled over a root and whirled around, eyes desperately seeking his partner in the darkness and trees. All he could see was an ever-expanding mist, trees, and the darkness of the new moon sky over his head. No Prompto. No vampires. No one.

Against his better judgment, which checked out the very second his partner disappeared, Noctis turned around and dashed back toward the vampire den. Desperation had him completely ignoring protocol and screaming Prompto's name out into the night. The first scream echoed out into the darkness, scaring a couple of woodland creatures and causing a flock of birds to evacuate the trees nearby and fly off into the sky. Noctis, flashlight up and serving as a beacon to any vampires who may have been looking for him, decided to throw caution to the wind and keep going. Keep running.

Prompto would have done the same for him, without question.

With his feet making loud, echoing cracking sounds in the leaves beneath each step he took, Noctis kept running, kept calling out, kept searching _desperately_ for Prompto. Where _was_ he? Did they catch him? Did they take him back to their den and turn him into one of them? It didn't matter. If they had, Noctis would... Noctis would just ask that they turn him, too. More blood. They'd take that. Right?

It was a small price to pay to stick by Prompto.

That was when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something that shattered his heart to bits. The beam of light from his flashlight caught something on the ground, and it glinted back at him, making him raise his arm to shield himself from the blinding brightness. He cringed for a second, but then looked back down, flashing the light on it again. As soon as his eyes focused, his stomach dropped to the ground, and he dashed to close the distance between himself and it. Noctis fell to his knees, and his hand gingerly reached down to gather Prompto's camera from the ground.

There was no way, no matter what, that Prompto would ever willingly leave this anywhere. His camera went everywhere with him. _Everywhere_. It was even waterproof, and Noctis often joked—often teased his best friend—saying that he probably even took it into the shower to take nude pictures of himself or something. That was how attached to that camera Prompto was.

Now, though, a crack spread across the lens, and there were splatters of blood on the black plastic, as well as fresh and bloody fingerprints all over it. Noctis felt even sicker.

"Prompto?" he cried out. "Prompto! Where are you? Seriously, this isn't... this isn't funny!"

No answer came, and that was the moment when Noctis realized exactly how bad the situation was. He scrambled to his feet, flashing his flashlight around him in a sweeping motion, and then stopped when he saw a large splatter of blood on a tree. It was almost like paint. Like someone had taken a paintbrush and shaken it, leaving a smear of red paint on the tree in its wake. Hanging from a branch on the tree was the bandana that Prompto wore on his right bicep, which itself was dripping with blood. Prompto had been caught. That much was clear. But... where was he?

In his desperation, Noctis' voice grew quieter; shakier. "P-Prompto?" he spoke out into the darkness, reaching to gather Prompto's bandana from the tree branch. "Please... if you're here..."

Again, there was no answer. Noctis pulled in a shaky breath, tears blinding him just slightly as he took another step beyond the tree. And that was when he saw it. Several feet away from the tree, a pool of blood started. It grew steadily, like it was still pouring out from something, and Noctis knew that he probably didn't want to know what it was coming from. He wasn't stupid. He'd seen enough cases just like this, to know exactly what it meant. His heart sank, and despite the fact that he _knew_ what was happening, he rushed forward. As soon as the beam from his flashlight hit the ground, he realized in horror that he was right.

"Prompto..." Noctis rasped, hitting his knees in the blood on the ground. "Prompto, are you... are you alright?"

No answer. No breathing. No _anything_. Prompto's skin was pale. Paler than Noctis' own. His stomach was torn open, and blood soaked his shirt, making it look like something ripped from an extra in a horror film. His throat was slashed open, and blood poured from the wound, slower than it should have been; like his heart was on its last legs. Noctis brought a shaky hand up to try and put pressure on the throat wound—a futile attempt to stop the bleeding—but honestly, he knew. Deep down in his gut, deep down in his heart of hearts, he knew that he was too late.

Deep down in his soul, he knew that Prompto was dead.

It took far too long for that concept to sink in, though. Denial. Refusal to believe that his best friend, his partner in crime, the one person in the entire world that Noctis could confidently say he _loved_ , was dead. When it finally did, though… it _really_ did.

For a few minutes, Noctis sat on his knees, crouched over Prompto's lifeless body, sobbing and apologizing against cold, unfeeling skin, words that reached unhearing ears. He apologized for not paying closer attention. For not doing more. For not noticing that Prompto was gone. He apologized for all the things that he knew he should have said, for all these years. Apologized for all the things that Prompto never got the chance to know. He apologized for stupid things. For never taking Prompto to see the chocobo ranch in Cleigne like he wanted to; that the pair of them never got to take that vacation to Altissia that they swore they'd take someday.

After that, he just sobbed. Convulsive, uncontrollable sobs that echoed through the night around him and left him a shaky, miserable mess over his best friend's now-lifeless body.

For some—for most, even—that would have been enough to make them give up. To just walk away, to leave Prompto there to decompose. Or even to find a place to bury him. Noctis, though? Noctis knew better than to call this the end. Noctis knew things. Things that his dad, Clarus, and Cor had taught him as a kid. Things that they all made him promise never to use. Ways to make sure that something like this wasn't the end. Lifting Prompto's hand, limp and hanging through it was, Noctis placed it to his own chest, let it rest there for a couple of seconds, and then set it on Prompto's chest. He crossed one arm over the other, made it look like Prompto was just hugging himself, and then slowly got to his feet.

Noctis was covered in Prompto's blood. His shirt was a mess. The bottom was dripping and his arms looked like _they'd_ been bleeding, but it was Prompto's blood instead. Loath as he was to admit it, that was useful. It would help him. Noctis pulled in another shaky breath, before gathering Prompto's bandana from his pocket and using it to wipe some of the blood from his arms.

And then, he turned on his heel and left Prompto's body behind.

As Noctis ran back to the edge of the woods and to his car, he could barely see through the tears. Still, he kept going. He kept going until he spotted the lonely streetlight that they parked his car at. He kept going, reached across the driver's seat and popped the trunk. Everything he needed was in there. A small wooden box and the sketch of the pattern that he needed to draw in the dirt. With everything in his hands, he made an internal apology to Cor, Clarus, Ignis, and Gladio, and to his dad in Elysium, or wherever he was.

Noctis knew that dealing with daemons was risky. Incredibly risky, truthfully, and it almost never paid off in the end. As foolproof as someone thought their plan was, daemons always had a secret agenda. A trap card. At this point, though, Noctis didn't care. Prompto deserved to live more than Noctis did. Prompto was good. Prompto was a good, wonderful person who would never have gone after this den if Noctis hadn't pushed for it. So, he put the blood-soaked bandana into the wooden box, closed the top, and then ran back out into the woods, sticking to the trail this time.

There had to be a crossroad there somewhere.

It took more time than he wanted to admit for him to find it. His logic was blinded by desperation to save his partner, and his eyes were blinded by tears. Still, he ran. He ran as fast and hard as his legs would carry him, and only stopped when he reached the crossroad, digging a hole in the ground that was deep enough for the box to fit in. Lifting his head, Noctis turned to cast his eyes around him, to make sure no one else was there; that none of the vampires would show up and kill him before he finished what he came to do.

When he was sure the coast was clear, he buried the box, and with his finger, he drew a messy pattern—it wasn't completely perfect, but it was close—in the dirt.

The second he finished, he felt a chill overtake him. Fog rolled in from the woods—the same fog that made it hard for him to find Prompto in the first place—and Noctis shuddered as he looked around desperately for any sign of the daemon who was supposed to show up. He'd never had to make a deal like this before, so he had no idea what he was looking for, really. Just that it was a daemon. A daemon who, for a price, would save Prompto; would bring Prompto back to life, or save him from vampirism, if that was what happened. It was a worthwhile trade. That was what Noctis told himself as he turned around once more and looked for the daemon once again.

A bitter wind blew from the west, and Noctis' eyes turned in that direction, just in time to see a black, smokey figure walking out from the fog. Unsettling though it was, and though he wasn't positive, Noctis' instincts told him that the black cloud was exactly what he was looking for. Time only served to prove him right when, out of the black cloud, emerged a man. Or at least what looked like a man. Noctis knew better.

Instantly, Noctis was on guard. Crossroads daemons were still daemons, and daemons were still evil.

"Here to barter for your friend in the woods are you?" the daemon asked, a sickening smile oozing across his face.

A question as to how the daemon knew was on the tip of Noctis' tongue, but he knew better than to ask it. Daemons knew. Daemons knew because daemons watched, and daemons watched because daemons wanted to prey on the first sign of a person's vulnerability. Because of that, Noctis found himself wanting to cut the pretenses; not wanting to waste time, and get right to the point so that Prompto could live. So, that Prompto could come back. That was all that matters. That was the _only thing_ that mattered.

So, Noctis just nodded.

The daemon laughed a soft note. He removed his black hat, revealing a mop of unruly burgundy hair and a pair of bright yellow eyes to Noctis. "Normally, I would have sent my crossroads daemon for this, but I've been waiting for the moment when one of your merry band of hunters would show up. You six, who have been a constant thorn in our sides for decades now. I must admit, I always thought that Amicitia would be the first to go. His reckless streak is worse than even yours, after all," he mused, his voice lilting with amusement; amusement that made Noctis feel sick. Before Noctis could even reply, the daemon continued. "Though, I suppose this isn't terribly different, is it? Your companion died because you wanted to recklessly charge in without waiting for assistance. And because you weren't there to assist when he got caught. I suppose that's what brings you here, isn't it?"

Noctis didn't bother replying. The daemon seemed to have a reasonable grasp on the situation, and he just narrowed his eyes instead and asked, "are you going to help me or not?" in a flat tone, crossing his arms at his chest and feigning confidence.

The more Noctis bristled and the more bravado he showed, that smile—that cruel smile—grew ever larger. It was almost like the daemon was feeding on it. No, not even almost. Cor and Clarus had told him before. They'd explained that daemons _did_ feed on things like this. False confidence. Lies. Anything that people considered 'bad.' So, Noctis tried to ignore the smile and instead focused on his own impatience. Every second that they wasted was a second that Prompto stayed dead. A world where Prompto was dead was a world that Noctis didn't want to live in.

"This is normally the part when people start requesting time," the demon mused, folding his hands and tapping his thumbs together in impatient amusement.

Time. Right. Noctis thought for a couple of seconds, desperately trying to come up with something that the demon would consider reasonable. Honestly, he really didn't care. All he needed was long enough to go back and find Prompto. Long enough to tell Prompto that Noctis had always loved him, since the first day that they met about ten years ago. Long enough for Noctis to give Prompto the keys to the Regalia and send him away, so that Noctis could personally find and tear apart the vampire that did this to him.

Because of that, Noctis simply said, "as long as you're willing to give to me."

Now, the daemon's smile was almost comically wide. Hysterical was a term one would usually use to describe laughter, Noctis knew, but it seemed fitting for this smile. The demon's eyes narrowed a little bit, malicious happiness dancing in them like a firelight, and then said, "one night. I give you one night, and then we come for you. For that, I can assure you that your friend will be _just fine_."

Noctis still wasn't sure. Something in the choice of words unsettled him, and caused him to hesitate. Maybe it was Prompto's voice in his mind. The constant reminder that his friend always gave when something wasn't a good idea, when he thought Noctis was making a mistake, sounded off like an alarm bell. Normally, that voice was enough to make Noctis hesitate. Normally, it was enough to make him reconsider. Given the fact that Prompto wasn't there, though—given the fact that Prompto's absence was the sole reason that _Noctis_ was there—the warning fell flat. It didn't quite reach the part of Noctis' brain that would convince him to walk away.

After a few seconds of silence, the daemon's smile warped a little bit more. It faltered, became something of a thin straight line on his lips, as he tilted his head to put it in Noctis' space. "Do we have a deal?" the daemon asked, extending his hand.

Even if it wasn't as simple as what was prescribed, it was better than what was there. Just fine was definitely better than dead, wasn't it? It didn't matter what context it was in. Just fine was better than dead. Just fine meant breathing. Alive. Didn't it?

It was a situation he had turned over in his head dozens of times. An unfortunate situation that was a risk of their job. Both of them were always aware that every single hunt they went on could be their last. Noctis, every night before sleeping, went over what would happen in scenarios like this, and he'd always been relatively certain that he'd be able to keep his mind together. To keep a clear head and look at things objectively. Quickly, he was realizing how wrong he'd been about that. Maybe, a more put-together Noctis would have been able to see the flaw in his logic. Maybe, a more clear-headed Noctis would have been able to hear the uncertainty in what the daemon was offering.

This version of Noctis—this desperate version of him—very obviously didn't. Or maybe he did. Maybe he _did_ see it, but he didn't care. He didn't care at all. With that in mind, he raised his head from where he'd been staring at the same spot in the dirt, and met the daemon's eyes with a single, quick nod.

At some point, while Noctis' mind raced around in its whirlwind, the daemon had lowered his hand and started tapping his foot in the dirt. Now, its smile returned, and it lifted its hand from its pocket again, holding it out to Noctis. "We have a deal, then?"

The nod, clearly, wasn't enough of an acceptance of terms. That was okay. Noctis honestly didn't feel like it was, either. Now, though, the realized that it was his last chance to back out. His mind's eye took him back to the woods. To the hopeless feeling, he felt when searching for Prompto—to the helpless feeling that he _still_ felt right then. To the heart-wrenching sadness and misery that ripped its way through his entire being. Prompto's lifeless body, blood seeping from his neck and covering his shirt, flashed through his mind's eye as well. That, more than anything, was what spurred him to raise his hand and clasp it with the daemon's.

"We have a deal."

The very second the words escaped, the gravity of the situation sunk in. The change wasn't physical. Well, it was. It was absolutely a physical change. It was like something ephemeral pierced into his skin, like something drove through his flesh without cutting it, dragging through him from where the daemon's hand clasped his and tore up his arm and into his chest. It hurt. Like a needle or a splinter, something driven into place and then yanked back.

Then came the feeling that something was missing. It was something of an emptiness that started like a pit in Noctis' chest. An absence of something that had always been there. Something he wasn't even aware of until he was missing it. Otherwise, he felt unchanged. He still felt like the same person. He still felt the same things. He was still sad—albeit a little bit hopeful now, with the deal he'd just made—and he still felt the same love for Prompto as he'd always felt. Honestly, he still felt like the same Noctis. Mind, body, and... soul.

That was when it hit him. Noctis knew that a soul wasn't something that a person could actively feel, but he couldn't help but feel like his was absent. That was it, wasn't it? That was the absence. The daemon had claimed his soul now.

A soul didn't actively shape a personality, or a person's feelings. If that _was_ the daemon placing a mark—placing a claim on Noctis' soul—then Noctis wouldn't have changed. Hell, even _daemons_ had their own personalities. They weren't stripped of humanity. They didn't become evil instantly. It was agreeing to follow a stronger daemon, a daemon leader—someone like the daemon in front of Noctis right then—that changed their morality. Noctis knew of daemons that operated independently. Daemons that didn't follow other daemons. Daemons that actually _hunted_ other daemons, or worked their whole immortal life to fight back against what made them what they were.

So, even if Noctis did die tomorrow, which was the term that the daemon gave him, what he'd agreed to with this deal? That didn't mean that he had to become a shill of this daemon. That, he decided, is how he would justify the whole situation. He'd find Prompto alive, and tell him exactly what he did. That he sold his soul, but that it was okay, because he'd come back and help the team fight, without the human limitations.

The smile on the daemon's face was even wider now, and while it was unsettling, Noctis felt confident in the fact that he'd won. That he'd beaten this horrible system that the daemon had in place to turn people into his willing slaves. So, in spite of the horrible predicament he was in, _he_ smiled, too. His smile was a quirk of the lips, a one-sided grin that probably told the daemon that something was off, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting back to Prompto. Being sure that Prompto was okay.

"My friend is alive now, right?"

To that, the daemon made a noise that was akin to a laugh. It wasn't _quite_ a laugh; more like a derisive snort. It was close enough to unsettle Noctis, though, and to make him back up a step. "Did I not tell you that your friend would be just fine?" he asked.

Just fine. There it was again. It wasn't confirmation that Prompto was alive again. Still, Noctis maintained that a person couldn't be just fine and be dead. It wasn't possible. That was the comfort that he took, and he didn't even wait to hear anything else from the daemon. Instead, he backed up a couple of steps, examining the daemon's expression as he did. The grin on the daemon's face grew again. Back to Cheshire-wide, and then more still, until it was almost like something from a haunting cartoon image. Something from an urban legend that Noctis remembered sharing with Prompto around the campfire one night when they were teenagers.

Finally, Noctis turned and made a mad dash toward where he left Prompto. He ran until his lungs burned, and kept running still. The woods seemed bigger, now that he knew exactly where he's going. Panic kept him moving through the pain, despite the way his lungs protested. The blood on the tree caught his eye, and he winced away from it, but recognized it as a marker that told him that he was close to Prompto.

'Was,' unfortunately, was an accurate answer. Noctis saw the trail of blood that led to the patch of grass where he'd left Prompto. What he didn't see... was Prompto. The blood was still there, as was all the evidence that his friend _had_ been there—that Prompto _had_ died there—but Prompto wasn't there. Even Prompto's camera still sat on the ground, in the same place Noctis left it. If Prompto awoke and left, he would never have left his camera on the ground. He would have never left his backpack, or any of his equipment, either.

"He's alive, though," Noctis told himself. "He has to be alive. That was the deal. That daemon said he'd be 'just fine.' Just fine doesn't mean..."

A familiar voice echoed from behind Noctis. Not Prompto's, not anyone he particularly _wanted_ to hear. It was, however, familiar. "I must say, dear boy. This is far and away the best deal _I_ have ever made. You see, by the time you reached me? The Astrals had already arrived for your friend. He is just fine, with them. Alive, no. But _just_ fine," cooed the daemon with that same slick, cruel smile.

Just fine. Not alive, but just fine. No. No, Prompto _wasn't_ dead. Prompto couldn't be dead, because if he was dead, then Noctis just traded his soul for nothing. Noctis darted his eyes around the area, searching for any sign of where Prompto could possibly have gone, but when he realized that there was no trail of blood that could possibly have come from him... none of the grass was disturbed, nothing was out of place even a little bit... Noctis realized that the daemon was telling him the truth. One by one, everything sank in; the information, the sadness, the fact that Prompto was gone now and Noctis had completely wasted his chance to follow these vampires and get vengeance, by only giving himself one night.

Well... not completely.

Noctis turned so quickly that he almost lost his balance. In fact, he _did_ lose his balance seconds later, and he tripped over his feet, bracing himself on a nearby tree so that he didn't hit the ground at the daemon's feet. The daemon's smile only grew wider, and Noctis' anger grew along with it.

"You still have your night, of course. I'm nothing if not a man of my word." The daemon placed his hat to his chest and his lips curled ever higher. "I will come to collect you when the sun crests over the horizon. Worry not about me finding you. There's nowhere that you can go where I won't follow."

And just like that... he disappeared into a puff of black smoke, the same way he'd arrived at the crossroads.

Noctis sank down to his knees, where he sank even further, hunching his back and resting his forehead against his knees. He growled under his breath, sucked in a shaky gasp, and then convulsive sobs tore their way through his entire being. Prompto was dead. Prompto was gone, and now Noctis had until sunup until _he_ was gone, too. No. No, he wouldn't even be gone. He'd be a _daemon_. Noctis, through tear-blind eyes, looked at his watch. It was eleven at night, and the sun usually came up at about six this time of year. Maybe seven, if he was lucky. The rest of the night's events had shown him that luck was _not_ on his side tonight, though.

That, more than anything else, was what fueled Noctis' next decision. He figured that he was on a streak of making bad decisions tonight, so why not keep it alive and get some revenge; take out the den of vampires that were the sole reason he was in this mess—the sole reason that Prompto was dead—to begin with?

Slowly, Noctis pushed himself to his feet. Slowly, because he felt as though all the fight had been drained from him. That all he had left was the sadness that came with knowing that, ultimately, he was the reason that his best friend was gone. He could blame it on the vampires all he wanted—and he would, because that spite, that anger, was the only thing that was keeping him from collapsing and just spending his last few hours staring at the moonless, starless, sky—but he knew, deep down, that it was his fault. That he wouldn't be here if not for his bad decision making. That if he'd just done what Clarus and Cor always told him to do and called for backup, Prompto would be alive.

Maybe he should have used this time to call Clarus and Cor to tell them that neither Noctis nor Prompto would be coming home. That Prompto was dead and that Noctis would be a daemon by the time they all sat down to breakfast the next morning. He couldn't, though. He couldn't tell them that he failed so spectacularly. He _couldn't_. It will hurt less, probably, if they just thought that he died. It would hurt _them_ less, too, if they just thought that he died. If they didn't know exactly how much Noctis had gone against what he'd been taught and trained to do.

Plus, if he called them, there was always a chance that Clarus and Cor would send Ignis and Gladio out, and that _they_ would end up hurt, too. That wasn't worth it. A silent apology as he stared at the pocket that houses his phone was all he spared the others. He still had a job to do.

Again, Noctis ran back to his car as fast and as hard as his legs would allow. He was tired. He was _exhausted_ , and his legs wanted to quit, but he wouldn't let them.

Gathering up his crossbow, all of the wooden bolts he has left, and the last bit of his garlic spray, he armed himself as heavily as he could and made a silent vow to Prompto that he would take out as many vampires as he could. That Prompto's death wouldn't be a pointless one. As he slammed down the trunk of his car, he patted it once, thanking it for being another steadfast ally. He knew the car couldn't understand him. Sometimes, though, he felt like it could. Sometimes, he felt like the car was just as close a friend to him as Prompto.

The thought of his best friend made him choke on another sob as he turned his back on his car and dashed on tired legs, back into the woods. The vampires were probably still preparing to move, and because of that, _Noctis_ had to move, too. Move faster than his legs wanted him to. He ran, his exhaustion making him uncoordinated to the point that he tripped over several roots and branches and rocks on the way. Anything within a mile almost definitely heard him coming. He didn't care. He didn't have much time left, and he'd be damned if he _completely_ failed.

When the cabin appeared in the distance, it spurred his movements a little bit more. He was able to run a little bit faster; a little bit closer to his normal speed. Not quite, though, and his movements were still hobbled. He was pretty sure he'd sprained his ankle, or at least rolled it, one of the times he tripped. Again, he didn't care.

Noctis threw his whole body into the door of the cabin, catching the two vampires guarding the door by surprise and buying himself time to shoot a stake at the first, then spray the second with the garlic spray in his hand. The first turned to dust and the second writhed and screamed, alerting all of the remaining vampires to Noctis' presence. Noctis used the advantage to plunge a stake into her heart by hand. She turned to dust, and a sense of vindication hit him. Two down, an uncertain amount to go.

Footsteps echoed up from the lower level of the cabin, and Noctis readied himself, reloading his crossbow quickly and aiming it toward the trapdoor, ready to fire at the first thing he saw. It was an older male vampire, and Noctis fired, listening to the sickening crack of impact that the bolt made and feeling a little bit more vindication as the vampire dissipated into a puff of smoke. Three down.

Before Noctis could reload his crossbow, the fourth vampire threw a dagger at him. It sank into the skin on Noctis' shoulder and his scream echoed out into the woods. Adrenaline fueled him, in spite of the agony he was in, and he _still_ managed to load his crossbow with another bolt. He fired, missing the vampire's heart but staggering it long enough to reload another bolt and fire directly into its chest. Vindication and confidence now warred for dominance in his mind, as he stepped forward a little more. One hand held the crossbow, and the second held a bolt, ready to stab by hand if he had to.

The cabin's main room was wide, and had a lot of places for vampires to hide, he realized. Continuing his streak of mistakes, a second realization woke him up to the fact that he should have stayed in the front hall and taken the vampires out as they came to him. _It's okay. It's okay..._ he told himself, trying to focus. His shoulder was bleeding, in pain, and the dagger was still sticking out of it, but he tried to ignore it, in favor of trying to pay attention for any noise. Mirrors wouldn't work. Vampires had no reflection.

Unfortunately, he heard the sound a second too late.

Behind him, the floor creaked, and Noctis couldn't help but turn toward it. A mistake that proved fatal, as the second he turned, there was a dagger at his throat. Before he was even aware of what's happening, Noctis was knocked onto his back, and there was an elderly vampire—the leader of the group, Noctis and Prompto's research told him—crouching over him and holding the dagger to his throat again.

"Come to avenge your friend, have you?"

Noctis simply nodded.

The old vampire's eyes twinkled mischievously. "He tasted delicious. Shame we couldn't save enough blood to turn him. Or you. My remaining group is hungry. I assure you, you won't be far behind," he taunted. "Have you any final words?"

But Noctis didn't speak. Instead, he just narrowed his eyes and waited. The vampire laughed a single, hollow note, murmured, "suit yourself." Before Noctis could even catch up to what was happening, he sliced his dagger across Noctis' throat. As he bled, as his blood poured out onto the floor of the dingy cabin, the last thing he saw before it all went black was a puff of black smoke appearing behind the vampire leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, friends!
> 
> This may look familiar to some of you. Mostly because it's actually a reworked version of an older fic of mine, changed into a tense I'm more comfortable with. A couple of later chapters are _also_ changed around a little bit, to help the story progress!
> 
> Thanks to Kiri, V, Chellie, Lacie, Cam, Pam, Izu, and the usual Discord crew for encouraging me to come back to this! I've got a whole bunch of new motivation and ideas for what to do with this, so I hope you're all as stoked about it as I am!
> 
> [♫♫](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7h6uakby-k) The song the fic was titled after.


	2. Looking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _sometimes you gotta tell yourself_  
>  _that the best is to come and the worst times are gone._  
>  _see some see a rain cloud and say, "no,"_  
>  _i see a crop about to grow_  
> [looking up](https://open.spotify.com/track/3ZR99CV1PCcumLuv07w8re?si=4ZMq8jYyTk6PnUSKW3nBeA) ;; safetysuit  
>  [ [youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMOmZJZyDmY) ]

"It's okay, buddy. It's okay, I've got you."

Prompto leaned over the small chocobo—not a baby, but not full grown either—as it warked a pathetic cry of pain. The bird was missing a large chunk of its right leg, and had a gash across its breast. Prompto knew that if he ignored it, the bird would die. If he was still in Elysium, being constantly watched by Bahamut and reminded that they had to let nature take its course, he would have stopped. He wasn't anymore, though. Now, he was back on Eos, with Loqi and Ravus several yards away, tending to the other chocobos in the herd that were attacked by a dread behemoth.

So, with that in mind, Prompto quickly rubbed his hands together and felt a swelling of warmth coming from his chest. It's a feeling that he was used to by now. Two-hundred-years being an angel meant that he knew most of the tricks. Some of them, obviously, he didn't. Some, he never would. It was a choice he made. When he turned his back on of Elysium, and refused to follow their rules, it came with the knowledge that he would forever be a half-angel.

Half-angel wasn't quite right, actually. He was still an angel. He still had his wings, his grace, and his healing ability. His eyes still glowed when he used his magic. He could still make 'miracles' happen. The difference, of course, was that he didn't have the extra abilities that Elysian angels had. He couldn't teleport. He was still restricted by human movement, for the _most_ part; except for the added advantage of having flight on his side. He could get punched or stabbed or shot by normal means and not feel pain, which came in handy sometimes, too. Especially given the fact that he and his friends had taken up a hobby of wandering around to monster ravaged areas and picking up the pieces after attacks.

Most of the time, the monsters they cleaned up after were humanoids. Vampires or daemons or the occasional witch that saw fit to attack people. This time, it was a nice change. Cleaning up after something that was natural was a nice reminder to Prompto that not everything in the world was terrible. Not everyone was bad and some people and places were still innocent and deserving of protection. Wiz and his farm were among those.

Prompto focused the energy that came along with his healing magic, then placed one hand on the chocobo's leg and the other on its breast. The chocobo protested a little bit. It writhed, causing the two wounds to spurt a little bit of extra blood, which collected on the denim of Prompto's jeans and made a little bit of a mess out of them. He made a face—even after two-hundred years, he still hated the sight of blood as much as he did as a human—but he didn't let it deter him. He had a job to do, and he refused to let any more of Wiz's birds die. He'd seen enough dead chocobos today.

The warmth didn't shoot from his hands like a beam or anything. It wasn't like a laser of healing that went from Prompto to the chocobo. Instead, it was sort of like an aura. There were some twinkling bits in there, but it wasn't like fairy dust or anything. Just a soft, but no less bright, light that traveled between Prompto's hands and the chocobo's wounds, closing them and knitting the flesh together without scars.

While the aura was still charged, Prompto roved his hand along the chocobo's leg, seeking any other wounds, and when he finally realized that there are none, he allowed himself to smile at a job well done. The chocobo was alive, completely fine, and the very second that Prompto relaxed back on his knees, it slowly picked itself up from the ground, gave a shake of its feathers, and looked at him with its black eyes completely stunned. It didn't run. It seemed less wary now, even. More fascinated, maybe, by the large, folded wings behind Prompto's back.

Chocobos were always fascinated by his wings, though. Prompto sort of figured that it had to do with the feathers. That Prompto almost looked like a human chocobo or something. He allowed himself a smile, and reached his hand out to brush his fingers along the chocobo's bright purple feathers.

"It's alright, dude. You can check out my wings if you want."

Sure, angel wings were a bit sensitive. Prompto didn't like his touched a lot. Still, even despite Prompto's efforts to heal her, this chocobo was still developing trust in him. Almost as though she understood him, she tilted her head just slightly, appraising him a little bit, before she walked around behind his back and appraised his wings. It brought a soft smile to Prompto's lips, a smile that only grew when she nudged the bone of his left wing with the top of her head. The nudge made him lose his balance a little bit, and he almost fell face first into the chocobo's nest. He didn't, though. He stayed standing, and turned his head to watch as the chocobo nudged at his wing again.

This time he was ready. This time, he was less tense, and he was prepared for the movement that came with the nudge. He was a little bit further braced and he barely moved. "Yup," he told her. "They're feathers. Just like your wings."

The chocobo made a keening and approving kweh in response, and then pecked gently at the right wing in response. Not the bone—thank the astrals, because that would probably hurt—but at the feathers, like she was trying to groom him. It made Prompto chuckle a soft and amused note as he flexed the wing a little bit, revealing more white feathers to her. White wings were a pain. They got messy easily, and Prompto wasn't going to complain if the bird wanted to help him clean them a little bit. She pecked again, this time a little bit harder, and grabbed a feather in her beak.

It hurt, and Prompto hissed a slightly pained noise, but he tried not to make a big deal out of it. He didn't want to alarm her. Instead, he watched as she brought the feather back around, made a pleased warking noise, and dropped it in front of Prompto's knees.

Pulling his wing back in, he leaned down and picked the feather back up from the ground. "Ah, thanks. Sometimes I forget what my own feathers look like," he teased gently, before leaning forward and adding the feather to the chocobo's nest. "There. This way, you won't forget me, huh? There'll always be a piece of me with you."

The bird—Prompto decided that he wanted to call her Violet, because of her particular shade of purple—jumped excitedly into the air, let out an eager and high pitched "kweh!" of approval, and then lunged forward at Prompto, resting her neck on his shoulder and bumping her head into his now-folded wing. Okay, he'd be damned if that wasn't adorable, and he reached his arms up and wrapped them around her neck. She trusted him now, so he brushed his hands through her feathers and then patted the top of her head gently once she stood back up straight and stared at him.

"Okay. I'm gonna check on some of the other birds, alright? Pretty sure some of the others need my help, too."

Prompto stood, using his wings to drum up a gust of air and help him get to his feet a little bit easier. Violet moved a little bit closer to him, and he couldn't help but grin a little bit. "What, you coming with me?" he asked her.

Bouncing on her feet and shaking her feathers out was very much not the answer that Prompto expected but he was glad to have it. "I'll take that as a yes," he told her as he smoothed his fingers down her neck.

Casting his eyes out around him, he managed a tiny smile as he caught sight of Loqi and Ravus helping a couple of Wiz's ranch-hands. The injuries, of course, weren't limited to just the birds, but given Prompto's unwavering attachment to chocobos, he knew that they'd leave the care of the birds to him. Wiz sat near the diner area, assessing the damage to their stock of feed, and trusting that Prompto will take care of things, so even if he _didn't_ love chocobos as much as he did, he'd still have done it.

As he walked, Violet at his side, toward the next chocobo pen where a small group of multicolored birds sat huddled in the corner together, Prompto found himself thinking about how this would be impossible, had he opted to stick with Elysian 'let nature take its course' rules.

It hadn't taken long for Prompto to realize that he wasn't exactly the Elysian depiction of Angel of the Century. The rules up there were very clearly defined. Bahamut didn't like them to get involved in things where 'nature had to take its course.' The number of times that Prompto heard that when he was up there was high enough to annoy him to no end. Bahamut was a do-nothing asshole, simple as that. The type of man—or diety, as it were—who would sooner watch people suffer and do nothing, when all he had to do was flick his wrist to cure the world of all sadness and hunger.

That was why Prompto—and Loqi and Ravus, and many others—were kicked out of Elysium.

Kicked out, Prompto realized, was a strong term. It was more of a mutually beneficial agreement. Bahamut never liked Prompto's refusal to let nature take its course, and Prompto couldn't—or wouldn't, he didn't really know which one it is—ignore people or creatures in pain when he was able to heal them in an instant. Prompto left with Loqi and Ravus, a pair of other angels who had a similar difficulty turning a blind eye to situations such as this. It was amusing, truthfully. Loqi didn't seem like the type who would be unable to turn a blind eye to someone who needs his help. He was, though. Very much so. Some days, he was worse than Prompto about it.

Loqi, in a contrast to Prompto and Ravus, was _actually_ kicked out of Elysium. He didn't have his wings anymore, and lost much of his healing ability. He could still heal, of course, but he couldn't heal injuries as severe as the ones that Ravus and Prompto could. Ravus was slightly more powerful than Prompto was. His wings, spanning almost one-and-a-half times the size of Prompto's, were impressive and purple. Not purple like Violet's feathers, but darker. A deep shade of bluish currant purple that he always liked to match with his clothing. Prompto remembered hearing that Ravus was in line to be an astral—one of the leader angels in Elysium—but opted out of it when he was told that his sister would be denied access just because she practiced witchcraft.

Prompto's deal with Bahamut was more along the lines of 'you leave, and we won't kick you out and take your wings away.' Granted, Prompto wouldn't have cared if it was just his wings that he lost. However, Prompto _liked_ being able to help people. He liked being able to heal the sick and injured, or help in situations like this one at the chocobo ranch.

Stopping in front of a clutch of chocobo eggs, he raked his teeth over his lip and watched as Violet appraised him again, likely trying to figure out what he was going to do.

One of the eggs had a small crack in it. Small, but obvious. It worried Prompto a bit as he crouched down and reached out slowly to touch the egg. His eyes were cast sidelong at Violet as he did, and when she didn't attack—when she didn't get angry—he realized that she wanted him to help the chick in the egg. That was fine. He would do so gladly.

Scooting forward on his feet, he placed his hand on top of the egg, feeling it warm up with the same healing magic that he'd used on Violet. She made a gentle warking sound—one that Prompto couldn't tell was approving or not—to his left. His free hand reached out to reassure her by smoothing along her feathers again, and smiled at her.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," he reassured her again. "I'm just helping it, alright?"

Violet nudged his hand, and he smiled softly, before focusing the whole of his energy back on the egg. He brought the hand that he'd been using to pet Violet over to join the first. The magic took a little more effort, and Prompto wasn't even really sure if it was working or not. He felt like maybe it was, but unlike with Violet, he couldn't see the results while the chocobo chick was covered by the egg. It was okay. It had to be okay. If the chocobo wasn't dead, his healing magic has to work on it, because what good was it if it didn't?

The energy faded, and Prompto hoped that it was enough, as he turned his head toward Violet. These most likely weren't her eggs. He didn't remember Wiz telling him that she was pregnant now or recently. Still, the chocobos at the ranch were all like family. At least that was what Prompto figured. Wiz and his crew took good care of them; treated them all fairly and similarly. So, it made complete reasonable sense that even if the clutch of eggs _wasn't_ hers, she felt like they were. On the other side of the fence that sheltered the nest and the eggs, a sky blue chocobo watched him in appraising concern, and Prompto figured that they were _her_ eggs.

As worried as he was about whether or not his magic had worked, he managed a small smile in an attempt to assuage the nervous chocobo and make her see that he meant her babies no harm. When she responded with an approving sound that echoed out through the whole ranch, Prompto couldn't help but smile. One of the benefits of being an angel, he supposed, was the fact that he radiated trust to creatures like chocobos. Even people, if they could manage to get past the weird feeling that came with seeing a guy walking around with wings coming from his back.

Violet bounced on her feet, and then turned to Prompto with—not a smile, he didn't know if chocobos were capable of smiling, actually—but an eager and approving expression as she walked in a half-circle to get to the other side of him and then nudged his wing again. It knocked him off-balance, and he nearly fell forward onto the eggs, but he managed to catch himself and push himself back up again.

"I take it that means you're okay with me now, huh?"

The series of kwehs that she responded with was akin to a very eager yes answer, and Prompto smiled with his whole face as he ran his hand down her neck again. This situation, as nice as it was that he was able to help, reminded him of Noctis. Two hundred years, and Prompto still couldn't help but think of Noctis from time to time. Their plans that never came to fruition, like the one they always circled around to, to come here and see the chocobos. Prompto had seen the chocobos here several times now, as well as chocobos in other places like the racetrack at the carnival in Altissia, or delivery chocobos that went from city to city with their owners.

Sometimes he still wished that he could do it with Noctis. He knew that his best friend wasn't around anymore—that it made very little sense for Prompto to still _call_ them best friends, since he hadn't seen Noctis' face in two hundred years, and he was likely long since dead—but it was hard not to feel a little bit sad that he never got the chance to say goodbye. Or to tell Noctis how important he was. Still to that day, especially if Prompto still couldn't stop thinking about him.

As was pretty standard when Prompto found himself thinking about Noctis, he found himself thinking about the night that it all went wrong. He thought about the determination in Noctis' eyes, and how, even though Prompto had told him that they could just call for backup and Clarus and Cor would send Gladio and Ignis, Noctis was too determined.

Prompto remembered being scared, but knowing that if he didn't go with Noctis, Noctis would have gone alone. He would have rushed in. He would have gotten himself killed, and Prompto would never have forgiven himself. As it stood, Prompto hadn't forgiven himself for what happened that night. As it stood, he fell behind. He got killed. He left Noctis alone to tell the others the news. He had left Noctis _period_ , and Noctis was terrible at handling loss.

Gods, dying had sucked, though. Obviously dying was _supposed_ to suck. It wasn't supposed to be a walk in the park, or something that people just did and moved on and forgot about. It was painful, though. When the vampires tore him apart and drank him dry, Prompto remembered going from excruciating pain to a down-to-the-bone coldness that faded to a numbness. Beyond that, as much as he wanted to remember, he was glad he'd lost some details over time. As much as he wanted to remember, he knew that death was traumatic, and he was glad that he couldn't remember every detail about the pain.

What he _did_ remember, though, was waiting for Noctis to show up. Knowing that he was dying in that spot that night; knowing that there was no way that he would see the other side of this, because the vampires drank from him until there was almost nothing left, and what was left was spilling out onto the ground around him. He remembered trying to hold on for as long as he could. The last thing he remembered at all, was hearing Noctis calling him and recognizing that as safe. Knowing that with Noctis coming, nothing else could hurt him. As much as he'd wanted to call out, he had no energy left, though. Through darkening eyes, he remembered seeing Noctis' flashlight approaching. The last thing he remembered at _all_ was hearing the crunch of Noctis' boots in the dried grass nearby.

Prompto remembered wanting to survive long enough to tell Noctis goodbye. To leave messages for Cor, Clarus, Gladio, and Ignis. To tell Noctis all the things that he'd danced around saying for all the years that they worked together.

Sometimes, Prompto wondered if Noctis ever forgot him. In the back of his mind, in the pit of his stomach, in the depths of his heart, he knew that Noctis would never have forgotten him. That was honestly no better, though. Knowing that Noctis probably never forgot him was just as painful as the thought that maybe he did.

When the two astrals showed up to bring him to Elysium, Prompto remembered not knowing what to think. Seeing the small fox, next to the giant floating serpent creature, as they looked at him and tried to explain what was happening, was jarring then. It was a little less jarring now that he knew that they were the authority up in Elysium, but back then, Prompto had no idea. Carbuncle and Leviathan were something of a 'welcome team' for the recently deceased. Prompto knew that they—or, Leviathan at least—had different jobs as well, but they served as something of a weird good-cop, bad cop routine.

Carbuncle didn't really speak. Not in words, anyway. The small fox communicated with series' of squeaks and sometimes odd noises that Prompto didn't quite understand. Leviathan, for a giant female serpent, had a very gravelly and angry voice. Her words weren't words. They more like growls, and Prompto remembered being a little bit scared of her at first.

At least until the pair of them got into the meat of their good cop, bad cop routine. It was funny when Carbuncle made little squeaking noises, sounding excited and eager, and then Leviathan looked at him with a little bit of amusement in her eyes and said things like, "you can't just jump into the meat of the explanation without telling him that he's dead, Carbuncle."

When it came down to it, Prompto couldn't say that he preferred finding out that he'd died that way. Leviathan nonchalantly confirmed to Carbuncle that Prompto was dead, without really explaining how or why he'd died, and it was jarring. Of course, it hadn't taken long for him to figure it out. One look around the area told him more than any words could. All of his blood, all over the place, and his camera sitting on the ground, were a big hint. Prompto remembered being scared that Noctis wasn't there. He remembered asking them where Noctis was, and them not really telling him straight up. Instead, they told him that he was none of Prompto's concern.

Prompto disagreed, and Leviathan insisted, earning a very annoyed squeak from Carbuncle, who went into a very squeak-laden explanation that told Prompto absolutely nothing. Especially when Leviathan's only answer was, "you will be accompanying us to Elysium. I assure you, it will be far more pleasant than you think it will."

An oversell, Prompto now knew. Prompto also knew why Carbuncle was so angry at Leviathan for that explanation, but he supposed it was the serpent's job to do that. That didn't mean that he liked the lie any more than he had before, but in the end, it didn't really matter.

All these years, he had always wondered why, if Carbuncle was supposed to be a welcome wagon, he didn't have the ability to speak like the other Astrals did. It didn't make much sense, but it was really just another thing that had always bothered Prompto about the supposed paradise that was Elysium. The thought made him sigh in spite of himself, even though he was about three decades out of having to be in the alleged paradise anymore.

It was a little bit funny, and a little bit sad, that Prompto made his 'deal' with Bahamut before he ever met any of his friends in Elysium, too. All of them, of course, would have _gone_ to Elysium. The world still hadn't ever really seen a group of people so kind, so willing to go out of their way to help other people, as they were. Noctis especially. Even Prompto, as much as he liked helping people and going against the Elysian rules to do it, didn't even come close to Noctis' pure dedication and determination to put himself last. When he arrived in Elysium, Prompto was willing to bet that he took one look at the rules and left, too. Ignis and Gladio had probably done the exact same thing.

Over the past two centuries, Prompto had a lot of time to think about that situation, though. He wondered why none of his friends had ever shown up in Elysium. That was one of the only things that had gotten Prompto through most days, the knowledge that when their lives came to an end, they'd all be together again. For the past few years, since he and Bahamut struck their deal, Prompto had been searching for any sort of clue as to where his friends could have possibly ended up. Dead, of course, as sad as it was to think. There was no way, unless Noctis turned into a vampire that night, or made some kind of deal with a witch, that he was still around on Eos.

 _So... where is he?_ Prompto asked himself.

Prompto didn't let himself get too carried away on that train of thought. Not this time. Most other days, he would sit and think about them for hours when he wasn't doing anything else. Sometimes, he'd stare at the sky at night, look up at the stars and the moon, and think about that night. When he did, he thought back to his life, too. All the time he spent with Noctis and the rest of the team, and all of the things that he would have done differently.

It wasn't until Violet nudged his hand that he realized that he was leaning against a fence post on his crossed arms, just staring blankly at nothing as he thought. Violet, he figured, was a smart chocobo. She could sense that his mind was a million miles away, because of course she could. She nudged him again, and gently pecked at his wings. Not a hard one this time, not a peck with the intent to pluck a feather or even to groom him. It was more of an attempt to get his attention. To drag him from his own head. He was grateful, definitely. As much as he wanted to think about Noctis and the others, as much as he wanted to remember his friend, it was a good way to make him sad. If he was sad, he wouldn't be able to focus on helping the birds and the people around here.

When Prompto's attention snapped back into the present, he brushed his hand along Violet's back and listened as she made a soft noise of approval. Smiling, he found himself wishing that his lifestyle—after-lifestyle?—was a little bit more stable so that he could consider adopting her. She seemed to have taken a shine to him. As it was, she was definitely better off here. Safer. Among her peers. _Are birds peers?_ Prompto asked himself as he turned to look at the sky blue chocobo, who was still watching him like _she_ wanted his attention, too.

"Always knew you were a birdbrain," a familiar voice called out from a few feet away.

Prompto turned, and Loqi waved his hand in a beckoning motion. Loqi and Ravus were both standing around one of the dining tables, Ravus holding a sheet of paper in his hand and Loqi standing behind Ravus—between his back and his wing—looking at the paper over his shoulder. An eyebrow arched in curiosity, Prompto turned toward them, huffing a gentle and amused laugh as Violet walked alongside him.

"Bird Whisperer, more like," Prompto mused in response, making sure that his voice was loud enough for Ravus and Loqi to hear him. Not loud enough to scare Violet, though. "It's not my fault she likes me."

With a bemused breath of laughter, Ravus beckoned for Prompto to come over to them as well. "Fret not, Prompto. Loqi is just jealous that he doesn't have wings for the birds to groom."

At first, Prompto just laughed, but the way Ravus' expression changed when he turned back to look at the paper in his hands took the laughter away quickly. Prompto was momentarily distracted by the way that Violet walked underneath his wings, parting the feathers like they were a beaded curtain, to approach Loqi and Ravus in appraisal. Eventually, it looked like she decided that they were okay, and she bounced on her feet a couple of times, leaning her head toward Loqi and making an eager noise, waiting for him to pet her.

Loqi just laughed. "No wonder you and Prompto get along," he mused, "both of you are like... the sluttiest attention sluts ever to slut."

"Okay, for one? I think you're getting me confused with you," Prompto mused in return, tucking his hair under his hat and ticking his shoulder up in a shrug. "For two? Just because I like chocobos doesn't mean that I'm an attention slut. So... shut up and pet Violet, because she's looking at you like she's offended that you're not petting her."

One of Loqi's eyebrows quirked in amusement, and he shook his head as he came out from his spot between Ravus' wing and Ravus' back, crouched down, and let Violet lean her head against his shoulder. "Just so you know, there's no way we can adopt this bird," he insisted. "All the traveling we do is only easy 'cause you two fly me around, and I think it'd be tough to fly a bird around, too. Doubt she'd even let us." Even as he spoke, though, he reached over to a basket of sylkis greens and fed one to her, like he was already smitten with her.

Prompto just grinned. "I didn't even suggest it, Lo," he pointed out.

"Well," Loqi retorted, "good. 'Cause I think she deserves to be cared for by someone who can come up with a better name than _Violet_ for her. Don't you?" As Loqi spoke to the bird, he held the green out to her and smiled when she ripped it from his hand and started eating it eagerly.

Ravus just smiled a fond smile, laughed a fond laugh, and smoothed a hand through his hair as he turned his attention back toward the papers in his other hand. Normally, as taciturn as Ravus could be, he was all over commenting on the silly things that Loqi did. This time, he seemed a little bit too focused on whatever was on the papers in his hands. The fact that he barely commented on the bird yanking the greens from Loqi's hand—and the way she was practically pummeling him to the ground and rubbing her head against him for more attention, or more greens—told Prompto that it's a pretty big deal.

Admittedly, he was hesitant to ask. Whenever it was a big deal like this, they always ended up having to leave in a hurry to head for whatever trouble was showing its face around Eos. The same part of him that didn't want to leave the ranch, though, knew that they had to, so he sucked it up and walked over next to Ravus, peering over his shoulder at the papers.

Initially, it looked almost like Ravus was going to try and hide them from him. He turned to look at Prompto in annoyance, curving the papers so they were a little bit harder for him to read, but with a sigh, eventually, he completely abandoned that mission and held them out to Prompto instead. "Take them. You needn't look over my shoulder like a spying child. Or like Loqi. Either one."

"Rae, I thought we weren't gonna-"

Ravus shrugged. "We should. It should be his decision. We left Elysium because we were tired of having things decided for us. Much the way you were thrown out, remember? If we keep information from him, just because we're uncertain that he'll be able to handle what is on the page, how are we any different from Bahamut and the Astrals?" The second he finished speaking, though, his attention turned to Prompto and a crease of worry furrowed his brow.

It was concerning to Prompto, too, of course. Prompto looked down at the papers, and started skimming them for keywords.

The first word that caught his attention was near the top. Vampires. That explained the secrecy, he supposed. Unnecessary, though. Prompto didn't hate vampires as a group. As much as Prompto feared what had happened to him the night he died, he knew that—just like any other type of being on the planet; angels, daemons, werewolves, witches—there were good vampires and bad vampires. A few towns away, they'd run into a whole den of good vampires, and if Prompto _had_ been the type to hold grudges, that would have done a good bit of repair in his opinion of them.

Prompto didn't hold grudges, though, unless people deserved it. So, with an exasperated sigh, and a quick disapproving look at Ravus over the top of the papers in his hand, Prompto turned his attention back to the documentation to read over the information about the vampires in question. According to the information, it was just two vampires. Two vampires who survived by killing animals and criminal humans. Two vampires who were traveling all around Eos, looking for any sort of information on four missing members of their monster hunting team two hundred years ago.

Oh.

That made a lot more sense, as to why they were hiding it, and Prompto just blinked a couple of times as he started reading the information in a little bit more detail. A lot more detail, actually. Two vampires, traveling Eos looking for information about their likely-long-dead hunting team. Prompto blinked a couple of times as he finished the first page. There was no way it could be Cor or Clarus. Right? They had to be long dead. Right alongside Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio. Even if they _weren't_ dead, there was no chance that they'd have been so reckless to go and get themselves turned into vampires hunting for Noctis and Prompto, right?

Because Noctis survived that night. Noctis had lived, and he went home and told Cor that Prompto was dead, and they tried to rebuild. The worry that he was wrong all this time—the worry that he'd turn the page and see his former mentors' face or name or some sort of something that confirmed that it was Cor or Clarus—had Prompto hesitating. He turned to look at Ravus, who was watching him closely, and Loqi, who was still petting Violet but was flashing Prompto a look of concern; almost like they knew what's on the page. Prompto swallowed thickly, pushing down a lump of anxiety that welled up in his throat over the course of what he'd read, and then flipped the page, letting the first bit of paper hang down by its paper clip.

Immediately, his hopes were dashed and his worries were confirmed.

Cor 'the Immortal' Leonis. Clarus Amicitia. No photos available... which, of course, made perfect sense if they were vampires. There wasn't any information on when they'd turned, no information on exactly how old they were, but there was a vague description of them. They were both tall, muscular, with short brown hair. One had blue eyes and one had brown. No mention of gray hair. Prompto's heart sank to the ground. That was them. That was exactly how Prompto remembered them, and it made a ball of worry tighten in his gut.

Prompto barely allowed himself enough time to wrap his head around that, before his mind moved on to the next point. Supposedly, Cor and Clarus were searching for the members of their hunting team. Did that mean that Noctis was dead, too? And what about Gladio and Ignis? When did they die? _How_ did they die? Were they actually dead?

One hand held the paperwork a little tighter than he probably should. The paper crumpled beneath his fist, and a thousand different thoughts spun around in his mind. Cor and Clarus were vampires. Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis might have been dead and Prompto hadn't seen any of them after all this time. None of it made any sense to him, but one thing was absolutely certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"We have to find them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if the changes are as obvious in this chapter? :D
> 
> Thanks for supporting me on this repost, guys! I'm excited for where this is gonna go!


	3. Two Evils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _i'm the lesser of two evils,_  
>  _or am i tricking myself nice?_  
> [bastille](https://open.spotify.com/track/4IlbD0joMT0hD091IpZDQK?si=RogFGZuUTqGVdWj_KfJhNA) ;; two evils  
>  [ [youtube link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLQsczqLDtU) ]

The giant skyscraper towered over the rest of the buildings in Insomnia, and Noctis was pretty sure that someone would've had to have a pretty exaggerated sense of self-importance to live at the very top. The guy they were after fit that bill pretty well. Self-importance was pretty much exactly what he stood for.

As they made their way through the lobby of the apartment building, Noctis could feel all the eyes on him. He was fully aware of how much he stuck out here, dressed in all black with his massive black-feathered wings stretching out behind him. Even if he folded his wings in, he was still nothing but a giant spectacle. It was worth it, though. The guy they were after was a major asshole. Some amoral reporter named Dino Ghiranze. He embezzled money from a children's hospital to fund some mysterious habit (or operation or _something_ ) that Noctis didn't even really _want_ to know about. Ignis didn't even know. It wasn't even in the dossier he'd put together. Ultimately, it didn't matter. What mattered was that because of his greed, hundreds of kids over the years had died.

After finding out the extent of his crimes, Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio _all_ agreed to move him up to the top of their list. The cops in Insomnia had been looking for the guy for months. For years, probably. But they hadn't found anything because of some _something_ that never really added up.

Ignis seemed to think it was a daemon deal, and the more Noctis thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. Luck like that had to come from somewhere, and if anyone knew it, it was Noctis. Ardyn and Ifrit had a pretty tight ship, down in the Abyss. It made make sense, why the guy had managed to skip jail as many times as he had. Not because of any skill at hiding. He was living up on the top floor of a skyscraper apartment building, for Bahamut's sake. It was likely because anyone who looked for him more than likely ended up on the wrong end of a daemon curse or something.

As they crossed the lobby, garnering looks from the hotel staff, Noctis couldn't help but laugh a little bit. A demon, a vampire, and what _appeared_ to be a human but was actually a fallen angel? Yeah, he understood their confusion. They were an unlikely trio, if there ever was one.

Most of the people staring had no idea that they'd been friends for more than two hundred years. They were just content to stare, most likely at Noctis and his wings.

Ignis fished around in his pocket for the room key that he managed to con out of the man at the casino the night before. Gladio wanted to just end the issue right then and there. He wanted to just burst the door in and take the guy out, forget the pretenses that they'd gone through the day before. Noctis couldn't justify it, though. They always operated more carefully than that. They always took care not to leave a trail—Ignis' plan was to drop the room key off in the room, after removing his fingerprints from it—and they were always cautious to make sure that no one saw them in the act. Bursting down an apartment door was a quick and easy way to end themselves up in jail.

Not that _jail_ was a situation that they couldn't get out of, either. Noctis just didn't want to resort to killing innocents if he could help it. He was more concerned about it ending with them being hunted again. They'd managed to keep from it for this long. Noctis wanted to keep that trend going.

Heaving a sigh as they slid into the elevator—Noctis in front of the others—he hit the button to drop them off on the third floor from the top. Walking up the last few flights of stairs gave them more time to come up with a plan of attack, and also kept their destination secret for a little bit longer. The camera in the top corner of the elevator caught Noctis' attention, and he just smiled a half-smile at it, before glancing back over at the floor counter. Hundreds of floors. At the very least, the trip gave them a chance to solidify their plan of attack, so he turned, his wing brushing the wall and making him pull a face. Cold. He hated cold.

"So, when we get there, Specs is gonna go in first, right? Play up the 'I saw you last night and couldn't get you out of my head' angle a bit?"

Gladio made a face, and squeezed Ignis' shoulder a little bit. "Honestly, I don't understand why we can't just go in and take him out. It's not like we have any doubt that he's the guy, and I really don't want Igs hangin' off him any more than he has to." His anger at the situation had his eyes narrowing a little bit, and he shrugged his head to the side. "So, why don't we just ax the guy and go lookin' for info back at the shelter and-"

Exasperation crossed Noctis' face, but before he could explain to Gladio why it's important for them to get info from the guy, Ignis spoke up for him. "Because this goes beyond a desire just to end the man's crimes, Gladio. We can't stop things like this from happening if we don't know who it is pulling the strings. Correct?" he asked.

"I know. I could get him to talk without you havin' to go in there, though. Threaten to break enough of a guy's bones and he'll speak up quick enough." A little smirk crossed Gladio's face then, and he turned from Ignis to Noctis.

Sighing, Noctis shrugged a shoulder. "I think we'll be fine," he told Gladio. "We'll be waitin' right outside the door, and Specs is gonna make sure it doesn't close all the way when he goes in, so if it looks like things are gonna go bad, we just burst in, kick his ass, and then leave. Have some faith in him, Big Guy. He knows how to get out of a situation if things get nasty."

Ignis nodded. "The worst-case scenario ends with me killing him in there. In the _best_ case scenario, we get all of our information and _then_ we eliminate him," he explained, peering at Gladio over the rims of his sunglasses.

With a nod, Gladio grumbled softly and turned his head back to Noctis. "I swear to each and every god, there's any sign of things going wrong? We go in and we fuck him up in short order. Right, Noct?" he asked, though Noctis could sense the fact that it wasn't so much a question as it was a demand carefully disguised as a question.

Noctis knew that Gladio felt protective of Ignis. They'd been together for more than two hundred years, after all. Even back when they were all alive, Gladio and Ignis were one of the most stable couples Noctis had ever known. They'd told Noctis that, when Ignis was turned to a vampire and Gladio died, Gladio quickly learned that even if Ignis' existence ever came to an end, he wouldn't be allowed into Elysium simply because he was a vampire. So, he had broken dozens of rules, to fall from Elysium and be with Ignis again. Gladio had willingly lost his wings, a process that Noctis had heard was incredibly painful, just so that he could still be with Ignis, and they could live the rest of eternity together.

Even when they were still alive, they'd been the couple that Noctis had based so much of his faith in love on. So, he understood Gladio's tentativeness. He just nodded and glanced down at the floor of the elevator. Two hundred years, and he still thought back to all the time he used to spend with Prompto. Two hundred years, and he still wondered what could have been. Some days, it felt like the only thing that got him through.

So, yeah. Noctis understood Gladio's position pretty well. He managed a tiny smile as he looked back up at them. "We'll be right at the door. Just give us a signal or somethin' if you get the info you need or if things start going bad," Noctis told Ignis, as he glanced back up at the floor counter. Twenty floors away.

"Once I get what I need, I'll turn the lights off. If things take a turn for the worse, I'll hit the door. That will be our system. Is that sufficient?"

Ignis' question was more to Gladio than it was to Noctis, but Noctis still nodded, even though he didn't turn to look for Gladio's response. He wanted to let them have their private moment. The elevator doors slid open, and a couple looking to get in cast a worried look over the group of three beings as they stepped out into the hallway. Noctis might have been upset, but he understood what a spectacle they must have looked like. Gladio wore all black leather, and even without wings or fangs, he stood imposingly tall and muscular. Ignis was pale as the driven snow, wore dark sunglasses, and when he spoke his fangs were clearly visible. Noctis, though, stood out the most.

Pitch black, feathered wings spread out behind him, stretching longer than his arms, down to the backs of his knees. It didn't matter what he wore or how he looked otherwise. As long as those wings were visible, everything else could look as normal as possible and Noctis would still stick out like a sore thumb.

He ignored the odd glance the couple gave him. As the pair boarded the elevator, Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio left it, and while the others continued talking in hushed whispers, Noctis immediately set out searching for the stairs to lead them up to the next floor.

Once he found it, he beckoned for the others to follow him, and the trio headed up the stairs. One of the bonuses of being a daemon (or a vampire, or a fallen angel), Noctis figured, was not tiring in situations like these. As a human, Noctis had always hated stairs. His stamina now, though, allowed him to effortlessly take two at a time and push the door to the top floor of the building open.

It seemed like Ignis was a little bit more apprehensive than he was before, but he didn't falter as he walked down the hall to the apartment they're looking for. He turned around just before the door, looking at the two of them as he pulled an item from each of his coat pockets. In one hand, he had the card key for the door. In the other, he had a small piece of stone that they took from outside of the building, that he intended to use as a door stopper. Two small strides placed him in front of Noctis, and he reached his hand out, setting the stone in Noctis'.

"Place this in the door before it closes, then stay close and listen for changes, please," Ignis commanded, not leaving room for Noctis to argue.

Gladio arched an eyebrow. "Why not me?"

With a fond grin, Ignis countered, "because, Gladio, if I leave this to you, there is no chance that you'll be able to resist bursting in and killing Mr. Ghiranze before we can get our info." Ignis side-stepped over to Gladio, tilting his head up and kissing him gently. "Noctis will handle it. I trust that you'll listen to me and leave it in his hands?"

Somehow, Noctis didn't see that happening, but he didn't say as much, either. Gladio was already struggling with this enough, without Noctis drawing extra attention to it. So, as Ignis turned around, Noctis turned to Gladio and tried to ease him with a smile. It probably didn't work, honestly. Especially if the way he just shook his head and looked at the wall opposite Noctis was any indication. So, he tried not to bring any further attention to it and just walked over to stand beside the door. He made sure to stay out of sight, so that he didn't cast any shadows.

Once Ignis opened the door, Noctis extended a hand and caught it before it closed all the way. He slid the small rock between the door and the frame, then watched as it held the door open _just_ enough for the light inside the room to cascade out into the hallway. Of course, it will be easier to see if the lights were off out here. Noctis cast his eyes up and down the hallway, and then turned to Gladio, quietly mouthing the word, "light switch," to him, and making a motion of flipping a switch up and down.

Gladio nodded, turned toward the light switch and rushed down the hall to turn it off. While he did, Noctis closed out all the background noise—the buzzing of the lights and the heavy wind outside that made the windows rattle a little bit under the strain—and tried to listen to what was happening inside. The voices were only mumbles, Noctis could hear Ignis' tone, and a second voice that could only belong to that Ghiranze guy. He listened for any telltale rises or falls in Ignis voice, signs that he wanted them to come in there after him. So far, there was nothing.

When Gladio rejoined Noctis, he held a hand up to prevent any conversation from starting, and he could almost hear the frustration in Gladio's grumbling. It was easy to shrug it off, honestly, because he knew why Gladio was this concerned. Gladio didn't care about the mission, so long as Ignis stayed in one piece.

So far, Ignis seemed to be doing well. He was talking in a level tone, if a little bit sultrier than he would more than likely prefer. Noctis stepped a little bit closer to the door in anticipation. He made sure he wasn't close enough to cast a shadow; to let Ghiranze or anyone else who may have been inside know that something was off outside.

At least not until something was off _in_ side. It wasn't a scream from Ignis. It wasn't anything too obvious. It was a simple flip of the lights and a gentle knock on the door that rattled it where the rock held it in place. Noctis turned to Gladio, who immediately sprang into action and brushed straight past him, putting a hand on the door. It was dark, but the moonlight coming through the giant window was enough to illuminate Gladio's face and tell Noctis that he was already impatient. Noctis didn't slow him down. Ignis gave them their signal, and if they didn't get in there, things had the potential to get nasty.

Before they could move any further, though, a loud bang echoed out from inside the room, and froze both Noctis and Gladio in place. Only for a second, though. Gladio was the first to move, and he slammed himself into the already-open door, with almost enough force to knock it from its hinges.

Noctis followed quickly behind, closing and locking the door behind them, before walking further into the room. He made it two or three steps, before he almost tripped over Ignis, who was picking himself up off the floor and shouting a string of curses under his breath. The string ended with a declaration that, "by Leviathan's _grace_ , I should have just killed him when the opportunity arose!"

After groping along the wall for the light, Noctis turned it back on, just in time to see Gladio slam Ghiranze into the wall with as much force as he could muster. The sound likely alerted anyone in the next apartment, but Noctis leaned down to help Ignis up from the ground, rather than stopping him. After that, though, he said, "Gladio. Come check on Ignis, okay? Let me handle this asshole."

"Fuck that," cursed Gladio, eyes glowing gold in threat, as he pulled Ghiranze back and slammed him into the wall again. The gun in the man's hand dropped to the ground. "The fuck gives you the right to shoot-"

Ghiranze coughed, and then kicked out with one leg, making impact with Gladio's knee. It staggered him for a second, just barely long enough for Ghiranze to scramble free and aim his gun at Gladio. Noctis just chuckled. As if a normal gun will have any effect on any of them. The fact that Ignis was back on his feet and walking forward to pull Gladio back said that more than anything else.

Finally, Ghiranze speaks. "He broke into my apartment! What am I s'posed to do?" he asked.

When Gladio shook Ignis off and stepped forward again, shoving Ghiranze back into the wall, Noctis realized that protocol was pretty much out the window at this point. Gladio was livid, and before he could step back forward to pin Ghiranze again, Noctis stepped up, placing himself between them and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Dunno about you, but immediately jumping to shooting seems like a really bad idea to me. Plus, what made you think that a normal gun would even work on him?"

The sight of Noctis' wings seemed to make Ghiranze realize the gravity of his mistake, and he dropped the gun from his hand, panic rising to his expression in a wave. "Who sent ya then? Was it Izunia? 'Cause I did what he wanted me t'do and I already gave 'im what he asked me for. He was s'posed to send Drautos or one of the usuals, not some random-ass daemon I didn't expect. Wasn't expecting a vamp and a fallen, either."

So, he knew what they were, but he still tried to shoot Ignis with a regular gun and expected it to work. Unless he wasn't trying to kill him, just to scare him away. Either way, it didn't work and the situation had gotten way out of hand. They had to kill him still—it was against their policy to let people like him go, after all—but they still needed to get information. If Noctis moved, he suspected that Ghiranze wouldn't last more than a couple of seconds. Gladio still looked like he was going to snap, even as Noctis stood between them. Noctis wanted to be annoyed with that, but he wasn't.

Noctis stayed in place. He wouldn't move and let Gladio go for the kill, but didn't move to go for the kill himself, either. There was still a little bit more information they needed. For example, "where's the money you took from the hospital, Ghiranze?"

"Gone."

That complicated things a bit, but it also simplified them. With no way to get the money back, Noctis saw no reason to keep Ghiranze alive, so he just narrowed his eyes, letting the blackness of his daemon ability take them over. As it did, figures became less human—less flesh-colored, and more energy-based. That was pretty standard for when Noctis drained a human's energy, though. People were people until Noctis' ability kicked in, and then that changed. Dino became a mass of aether, which honestly, was all a man like him should've been. The energy mass pulsated purple, telling Noctis that he was still fully vital. Still completely normal and human and that Noctis needed to put a stop to that.

Even through the aether field that comes with his ability, he could still almost feel the panic as it radiated from Ghiranze in waves. "Wait!" Ghiranze insisted. "What do I gotta do to make you let me go? To just leave and let your boss send his next group to-"

"Yeah. Not gonna happen," Gladio interrupted from behind him. "Izunia didn't send us. Noct doesn't work for him. We clean up the messes he makes. Y'know. Kill assholes like you."

The pulsating blob of aether stopped moving, and Noctis took his chance to start draining the energy from it. It wasn't like stealing a soul. Well, it _kind_ of was. Aether wasn't a soul, though. It was more like energy. Sometimes, in his mind, Noctis compared what he did to vampirism. He knew it was different. Ignis _needed_ blood to survive, and Noctis could survive just fine without aether. Outside of that, though, it was very similar. Draining energy may not have sustained daemons the way draining blood sustained vampires, but it did give them a temporary boost of energy on its own.

Ghiranze seemed to feel the energy starting to drain from his being, and he started trying to run away. He made it two steps, before Gladio shoved him back down onto the ground. Noctis would have been surprised, but he figured the moment that he shot Ignis, it became more of a personal vendetta for Gladio. Ignis, too, stepped to the other side of Ghiranze, keeping him from running the other direction and waiting until Noctis was done to drain him of his blood.

Noctis could feel the energy draining from Ghiranze's body and into his own, and he listened as Ghiranze's protests got quieter and quieter. At the start, he was pleading. At first, he begged with as much energy as an alive-and-well human _should_ have had. Slowly, the protests grow weaker, and weaker still, until they completely stopped. The man's energy surged through Noctis' body, and he slowly blinked his eyes, using the couple of seconds that his eyes were closed to turn off his ability, before he started draining Ignis or Gladio by accident.

With that done, he focused back on the room around them. Ignis was already down on his knees, turning Ghiranze's body over and lifting his arm to sink his teeth into an easily accessible vein.

While Ignis was busy, Noctis turned to Gladio. So far, so good. They'd killed Ghiranze. Next, they had to search the place for information. Information that could help them loosen the hold that Ardyn and Ifrit and all of their people had on Eos. That meant that they needed to look through Ghiranze's apartment to find the daemon contacts that he worked for. Commonly, in situations like this, daemon contacts didn't stop with one, and if Noctis had to turn the whole room over to find even a single clue that told him Ghiranze _didn't_ have any, that was exactly what he'd do.

Anything to have just a _little_ leverage on Ardyn.

So, he started at the desk. Ghiranze's desk was a mess of papers, as well as a laptop that was left open with his latest article. Noctis laughed. The article was an update on the mysterious thief that stole from the children's hospital. Like it wasn't Ghiranze himself. "Asshole," Noctis murmured as he started looking around the rest of the desk. Ignis had a backpack, so they could take the laptop with them, too.

Ghiranze's cell phone sat on the desk as well. Noctis was willing to bet that it was locked, but Noctis knew where to find hackers who could attend to that for them. He picked it up, sliding it into his back pocket, then started looking around the desk again, at the papers. Most of them were inconspicuous, but one that caught his attention was a list of businesses. Different places for Ghiranze to steal from. Most of them, Noctis noticed, were hospitals and banks and places that anyone with a soul—and some without one, he internalized grimly—would be ashamed to even _consider_ robbing. Suddenly, he felt a little less remorse for putting the guy out of their misery.

"Got the address to an offshore account," Gladio announced from where he stood next to the dresser. "And some gaudy-ass jewelry that he more than likely bought with that cash," he added with a sneer in his voice.

Noctis nodded, and then gathered the laptop from the table. Admittedly, he was a little bit hesitant to close it or unplug it, because he didn't know exactly what encryptions Ghiranze had on the thing. He had faith, though, that they could find someone to get through it. They had contacts, Biggs and Wedge—a pair of tech experts, and a vampire and werewolf, respectively—who were good enough at technical things to get through just about anything. So, he left the cord behind, knowing that they had backups somewhere in their workspace, brought the laptop, the phone, and the list of places, over to Ignis for him to put them in his backpack.

Ignis was finished draining Ghiranze now, and had wiped the last of the blood from his face with the handkerchief he carried in his pants pocket. As he tucked the cloth back into his pocket, he extended his other hand to accept what Noctis was offering him. "With all of this tech, I can only assume that the plan is to seek out Wedge and Biggs," he mused.

Before Noctis could even answer him, a loud knock on the door rattled the whole room. All three of them went completely silent, turning to look at each other with varying emotions on their faces. None of them panicked, though. Ignis was trying to calculate a new way to get out, and Gladio was exasperated. Noctis, for his part, was actually a little bit relieved. He honestly wasn't looking forward to taking the elevator and the stairs to get out of this. Of course, whatever their new plan was, they needed to come up with it quickly. It was possible that the people knocking had a key, or at least another way to get into the room, so instantly and silently, he started looking around for an alternate way out.

Ignis looked along the line of windows, and Noctis' eyes followed his lead, wondering for a silent second how a person could live in an apartment like this. The whole outer wall was composed of windows. Granted, the apartment was high enough above the general populace that the people living here didn't have to worry about being seen in any situation, unless there was an extremely low-flying plane. It was still disconcerting, though.

When Ignis announced that, "none of these open. This seems like a rather monumental security flaw, especially when it comes to fires," with an annoyed grimace on his face. He turned his attention back to Gladio and Noctis. When his eyes settled on Gladio, though, he blinked in surprise. "What, exactly, are you planning to do with that, Gladio?"

Noctis followed his gaze, and he blinked, too. Gladio held Ghiranze's gun in his hand. He turned it over, and then turns to look at the window straight across from him. "One of you. Check and see if there's a fire escape below," he commanded.

It was a bold plan. Bold, but if anyone could make it work, it was them. Noctis could fly, and Gladio and Ignis were immortal, so even _without_ a fire escape, they could just jump. The knocks on the other side of the door were quickly becoming more determined, and the man on the other side asked after Ghiranze in a concerned voice. That was when Noctis realized that the only _real_ way out was to follow Gladio's plan, and he just nodded, rather than making any real effort to talk him out of it. It wouldn't work, anyway. When Gladio set his mind to something like this, he did it. The only difference between him and Noctis in that respect, was the fact that his plans generally didn't end in miserable failure.

That thought didn't even get the chance to manifest, before Ignis confirmed that there _was_ a fire escape below. Gladio raised the gun in his hand and fired on the window, the bullet piercing through the glass and disappearing into the night. Whether it fell straight down or went further out into the darkness, Noctis wasn't sure. Wherever it landed, though, in the back of his mind, he found himself hoping that no one was in its path.

"I'm getting the key," a voice on the other side of the door announced as soon as the gun sounds off.

Noctis turned toward Ignis. He had the most important pieces of evidence, plus the only way to get the money back to the children's hospital with him, so Noctis said, "go first, Specs. Take the escape up to the roof and wait for us."

It looked like Ignis was going to argue, but Gladio reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the window as he extends his foot to kick the glass out. "Go, Igs. We'll be right behind you," he insisted, as glass rains down on the ground below them. Not really the safest escape route for other people, but Noctis figured—hoped—that it didn't kill anyone.

While Gladio argued with Ignis over which of them would go first, Noctis hurried over to the door and gathered a large shelf from beside it, using it to keep the door blocked. Hopefully, it would stay blocked long enough to allow all of them to escape. If not... Noctis just hoped that they could get out of here without having to kill any innocent people. He preferred not to do it. Most of the time, they were able to avoid it. When they attacked, though; when they used _proper_ weaponry—the things designed to take daemons out—Noctis couldn't really avoid it, though. Those were the only times that he really felt monstrous.

Finally, Gladio convinced Ignis to leave the room. He climbed out the window, and dashed past them at supersonic speed, up the fire escape. Gladio turned to look at Noctis, nodding his head toward the door, and asked, "you goin' next, or am I?"

"You," Noctis answered simply, pointing out the window. "I'm making sure none of them realize where we've gone."

Gladio nodded and slid out the window, too. His movements weren't quite as quick as Ignis', but he was hardly a slouch as he sped up the fire escape and toward the roof.

Noctis turned, glancing at the door and the makeshift barricade, and backed toward the window when he saw the door shaking a little bit. He turned back completely, ran toward the window, and stepped out onto the fire escape. One last glance over his shoulder and into the room—he saw Dino's corpse laying on the ground, saw the door rattle a little bit harder, and saw his barricade start to give a little bit—and he jumped from the fire escape.

The wind caught his wings and he spread them, sweeping them downward in order to lift himself up. This, he decided, was his favorite part of the afterlife. Noctis liked flying in planes back when he was alive, but this? Nothing compared. He flew past the window, watching as the door sprang open and from its hinges, knocking his barricade back into the room and breaking the cheap bookshelf into splinters. The apartment landlord stared at him, but Noctis was confident in the fact that, in the light's contrast, all he could see was a shadow of a winged creature.

For a second, he lingered, allowing the landlord to blink dumbly at him. Then, he beat his wings again and ascended, up toward the rooftop. He landed on top of it before the man even had a chance to realize where he went. Gladio and Ignis were already there, waiting for him and then beckoning for him to follow them to the opposite edge of the roof.

Noctis didn't even need to look. He could already hear the sirens. Likely, the neighbors heard the gunshot and called. It didn't matter. There's no way that anything could be traced back to them.

Still, he followed their lead and looked down over the balustrade, down the seemingly endless apartment building floors and at the flashing red and blue lights below. Fortunately, but also a little bit sadly, the police would never be able to find anything. Angels, daemons, and vampires didn't leave fingerprints, and there was no way they could possibly trace the way Ghiranze died.

"We should probably bail then, shouldn't we?"

Gladio nodded, but didn't move right away. Instead, he glanced over at Ignis, who nods back at him and reaches into his pack. "So, while we were in there, I also found this." He took a small piece of paper from Ignis' hand and offered it to Noctis.

Accepting it, Noctis knit his eyebrows together and looked it over. Immediately, as he looked at it, several names stuck out to him. Not just names, but names and species. Some demons who had turned their backs, like Noctis had. People they'd worked with before. A few vampires. Some fallen angels. Some wolves. A ghoul or two. Several human names littered the list as well. The first few were familiar, though, and they had all been murdered very recently. The strikes stopped halfway down the page, but the familiar names didn't. Most striking was a trio of names that he never thought he would see again.

Regis Lucis Caelum, angel. Clarus Amicitia, vampire. Cor Leonis, vampire. They were surrounded by several human names—all unfamiliar to Noctis—but that didn't diminish the shock he felt at seeing his _father_ , _Gladio's_ father and their _mentor_ on what seemed to be a kill list, belonging to a man who had a deal with a daemon.

Noctis blinked dumbly at the page for a few seconds, before darting his eyes back up toward Ignis and Gladio. "My dad? And Clarus and Cor..." He trailed off. He knew that they knew, too.

"Yeah," Gladio confirmed.

Glumly, Ignis added, "and it appears to be some sort of kill list."

Eyes turning back down to the page, Noctis flipped it over and looked over the rest of the list. At the very bottom, preceded by another pair of unfamiliar angel names, was one more name that Noctis never thought he would see again. Prompto Argentum, angel, was written in bold letters, and it drew Noctis' attention right to it. Prompto. Fortunately, Noctis already knew that he was an angel, or his heart would have shattered. It was one of the first things that Gladio had told him when they'd reunited; that he'd seen Prompto in Elysium (from a distance, for a split second, and he was pretty sure that Prompto hadn't seen him), before getting himself kicked back to Eos.

Prompto, on the other hand, didn't know what had happened to Noctis that night. It took Gladio and Ignis several years to figure it out, so there was no way that Prompto could have known. They'd been stunned speechless when they ran into Noctis, wandering around and searching for the rest of the vampires who had killed him. Noctis ran. In fact, he'd outrun them for several decades, before they finally cornered him and forced him to talk. Prompto, though? Prompto probably didn't know. Prompto had probably gone the past two hundred years thinking that Noctis had just died, and that was what Noctis _wanted_ him to think. He'd managed to avoid them for two centuries. Two whole centuries.

Now, after all that time spent avoiding them, Prompto was being targeted by an angry daemon who had already successfully eliminated several angels. It was damn near impossible to stow the instinct to fly off into the night, not resting until he found his dad, Clarus, Cor, _and_ Prompto.

The only thing that stopped him was the vague awareness that it would take him much longer to find them, not knowing where to start looking.

Sirens were the only sound that he heard for a few seconds, before Ignis spoke up again. "I'm certain I don't need to tell you that we must warn them."

" _You_ have to warn them. Not me," he countered. "They, uh... they don't want to see me. Not like this." Really, though, he was trying to say that _he_ didn't want them to see him like this. Not as a daemon.

A sharp shove to his shoulder caught his attention, and when he looked up, Gladio narrowed his eyes. "Hey, dumbass. Don't be fucking selfish. They wanna see you, even if you don't want them to, and you know it."

Ignis nodded his agreement and urged Gladio back away from Noctis. "It isn't as though you're one of the demons that just indiscriminately kills whoever they come across, no? You kill less than some humans out there, Noctis," he pointed out in a much gentler tone.

"You've _never_ been a normal daemon, Noct," Gladio agreed. "I mean, shit... as soon as Ardyn dragged you down to the Abyss, you pretty much gave him a massive middle finger and came back up to Eos to do whatever you could to fuck his plans up. Didn't you?"

Noctis didn't say anything, but he was almost positive that he didn't have to. Whether he was a good daemon or not, that didn't change that he was a _daemon_. He'd made a mistake and sold his soul to Ardyn and Ifrit, and there was no way in hell—ironic term—that his dad, or Clarus, or Cor, or Prompto, or _anyone_ , would ever forgive him. Even if they were willing to, they shouldn't have. Noctis didn't answer Ignis right away, just sighed and shrugged one shoulder.

Ignis pointed at the paper in Noctis' hand. "I know you want to see them just as much as we do. You can deny it all you want, but we know better," he insisted.

"So, this goes one of two ways. You either agree to it and come with us willingly, or we trap you in rock salt in a wheelbarrow. You're comin' one way or another, but it'll be a lot less painful if you just admit that you want to," Gladio teased.

It seemed like a bad idea, for Noctis to go along with this. Seeing his dad. Seeing Clarus and Cor. Seeing Prompto. Having _them_ see _him_ as a daemon. It seemed like the _worst_ idea that Noctis had ever heard. Still, in the back of his mind—in the depth of his heart—there was nothing he wanted more. So, bashfully, he looked up and met Gladio and Ignis' gazes with a single nod.

"I want to see them," he finally admitted. "I really want to."

Gladio headed toward the fire escape on the opposite side of the roof beckoning for Ignis and Noctis to follow him. "Then let's go. Get this shit decoded and narrow down a location," he commanded.

Noctis lagged behind, even as Ignis followed behind Gladio toward the edge of the roof. He stared blankly down at the paper in his hand. Not at his dad's name, not at Cor's name, not at Clarus' name. They all knew how much they meant to him. No, the name he stared at was Prompto's. Prompto was finally the angel that Noctis always thought he was. Maybe they couldn't ever really be what they were to each other. In fact, with Prompto as the portrait of good and Noctis as the portrait of evil, Noctis knew that they couldn't. At the very least, for everything that Prompto had done for him, he owed his old friend a warning that someone was trying to kill him. Seeing him again, as amazing and terrible as it would feel, was something that Noctis had to do.

So, he followed behind Gladio and Ignis to the fire escape, taking off with a beating of wings and slowly making his way down to the ground. Biggs and Wedge would look through Ghiranze's computer and get them a location. He just hoped he was ready by the time he had to face them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, we've caught up to where we left off! I'm excited to go on from here. :3 Got some pretty fun plans!
> 
> I _also_ think I'm going to write a Gladnis side-fic, given the context of this chapter and some of the things that I'm going to add in later on. :D We'll see, I guess!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _lost in the moment again,_  
>  _stuck where the road has no end._  
>  _keeping the thought in our minds,_  
>  _one day life will be kind._  
> [home](https://open.spotify.com/track/7FOy48oDc5OIXoToVHyIvr?si=WFHXfDMVTwCd7cSPzh2rHw) ;; aurora  
>  [ [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWcrFc3Wc2I) ]

From the treeline at the edge of the small clearing, the cabin looked almost like an upgraded version of their old base of operations. It was much bigger, it was made of mahogany logs instead of oak boards, and the roof was the shade of hunter green that Clarus had always wanted to paint it. It looked hand-crafted, but it _also_ looked like a lot more time went into it than went into their old base. If it was handcrafted, if Clarus had made it, then it made Prompto realize that Clarus was finally realizing his dreams.

Back when Prompto was alive, he remembered overhearing Clarus talking about all of his grand plans. The memory was so vivid, that it was almost like it was two hundred years ago, all over again. During rare free moments, he and Noctis would sit at the table playing cards or listening to the radio, while Clarus, Regis, and Cor went over plans to expand their small cabin. He'd always talked about wanting several basement levels. An underground base of operations that would be safe even if terrible weather came along. Clarus wanted a treehouse shed, too, that could house all of their backup weaponry and special case weaponry.

When Regis died, a lot of those plans ended up falling by the wayside. Even if they hadn't, even if Regis hadn't died, the unfortunate truth of it was that they were so busy, and that they were under human limitations back then, so the renovations never came to fruition. Now, being a vampire, Prompto could only assume he had unlimited time to work on a project like that.

From here, he could see a treehouse made of the same mahogany, with the same green roof, locked down like a safe. If that wasn't a weapon shed, Prompto didn't know what was. It made him smile a little bit to himself. Even though everyone had to die to get there, immortality brought them one thing. It brought them the freedom of unlimited time to do what they'd always wanted to do, but never could.

If Prompto's heart was beating, it would have beat out of his chest as he scanned the outline of the building. Back then, Clarus wanted to give them all their own rooms; their own little corners of the houses to call their own. Now, Prompto could assume that there was a whole new crew living there. New people, new hunters, who wouldn't know what to think when a group of three angels came to the door to warn them that they were being hunted. What if Clarus or Cor weren't even _there_? What if Clarus and Cor were out hunting, and Prompto knocked and someone he didn't even _know_ answered the door? What if this _wasn't_ Clarus' cabin? How would he handle that?

"Hey," Loqi called out from behind him. "You gonna go knock on the door, or are you just gonna sit there staring at it?"

Ravus heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Loqi. Give him a moment. It's been two days, and I don't think he's even really had time to come to terms with the fact that his friends are still _around_. Now that we're here, I think it's a good chance for him to take a moment to wrap his head around it. At least before he sees them, no?"

The exasperated huff that Loqi gave was almost enough to make Prompto laugh. He probably would have, if his mind wasn't racing about a thousand miles an hour. As it stood, Prompto could almost feel the overwhelming wave of memories crashing into him. The most vivid was the night he met Cor, Clarus, and Regis. Prompto's adoptive parents had planned deals with a daemon, and while Prompto didn't actually remember the circumstances behind them, he knew that they planned to offer his soul to it to extend their time. Clarus burst into the room, with Cor and Regis behind him, just as his parents were about to seal the deal. Cor had been tasked with getting Prompto away while Clarus and Regis had...

Well, Prompto wasn't sure _what_ they'd done, but he could only assume that his adoptive parents weren't alive anymore.

Then, the rest came crashing in, like that first memory had pounded a hole in his skull and allowed them all access to his mind. Memories of Cor training him to shoot, and of Clarus telling them stories about old hunts. Memories of Regis teaching them about monsters. Memories of walking to the river to fish with Noctis on rare days off; of sharing a room with Noctis and staying up until the wee hours of the morning playing video games. Memories of prank wars—Noctis and Prompto versus Gladio and Iris—with Ignis always trying to get them to stop. All of the memories of people that he never thought he'd see again.

Here was his chance to see some of them, and he was balking; afraid. What was he afraid of?

Before Loqi could come forth with any more "encouragement," Prompto straightened his coat in an attempt to steel himself, sucked in a deep breath, and nodded. "I... I can do this." Even if he couldn't, he had to.

Without even glancing over his shoulder to see if Loqi and Ravus were following him—he knew they were, Loqi more out of curiosity than support, he was sure—Prompto walked with powerful strides toward the cabin. Most of it was bravado, because he didn't really _feel_ certain about anything, but he figured that a little bit of false confidence was okay.

That false confidence stayed until, about halfway from the edge of the clearing to the cabin, the door started opening. Prompto heard the creak from where he stood and jumped a little bit, blinking in stunned silence and hoping that whoever opened the door didn't instantly see wings and think that they were some sort of enemy. From the light in the doorway emerged a familiar form, and Prompto completely seized up. His false bravado was completely gone, cracked into pieces and scattered on the ground beneath his feet. It was an unmistakable visage. Standing at the same height, same frame—same _everything_ , save for a slightly paler skin tone—was Cor.

Prompto couldn't move. It was ridiculous, because how was he going to _talk_ to Cor if he couldn't even move? Shock rooted him in place, though, even as Loqi leaned in and whispered, "is that someone?"

Cor was approaching, Loqi was wary, and though Prompto was still rooted in place, he managed to croak, "Cor. That's Cor," in a shaky voice.

"Well, that's who we're lookin' for, right? So, I see no reason for you to be rooted to the ground like a damn tree, Prom. Just go talk to 'im. Even if you don't move yourself, you're gonna have to talk to him eventually, 'cause he's almost here."

Ravus cleared his throat. "I believe that's quite enough, Loqi. Prompto is justifiably shaken. He's not seen this man in over two centuries. That, I would say, is a good enough reason to be a little bit stunned," he countered. "That said, Loqi is right. You should shake out of it very quickly, because if you do not meet him halfway, he will be here before you know it."

Much to Prompto's surprise, he didn't get a chance to answer. Instead, Cor's voice rang out, announcing that, "I'm already here. Prompto... is that you?"

Well, that was definitely a shock to the system. Prompto turned his head so quickly that he almost lost balance, and blinked dumbly at Cor a couple of times. "Y-yeah," he answered. "Um... yeah. It's... it's me. I... we heard that you... we came to find..." His mouth and his brain weren't exactly connecting; words were finding their way into the air and straight to the ground. Nothing he was saying made any sense.

So, Ravus spoke up for him. "I apologize for interrupting," he declared. "But I believe that Prompto is trying to tell you that yes, it is him. And that we very recently discovered that you were still alive—in a sense—and opted to come and find you. It was a rather arduous process, and since Prompto is unable to speak and make the best of it, I decided to speak up for him."

Prompto wanted to be mad. He wanted to tell Ravus that he could handle his own business and that he was perfectly capable of talking to Cor for himself. Honestly, though, he wasn't so sure about that. Having Ravus speak up for him was more of a relief than he was willing to admit, and he looked from his friend to Cor with nervous eyes. Words still weren't connecting. He probably should have been able to tell Cor that yeah, everything that Ravus was saying was true, but he couldn't. Instead, he just nodded his head and quirked his lips in a nervous smile.

Before Prompto knew it, a pair of dead-cold arms wrapped around him, hugging him tighter than he'd been hugged in almost two centuries. "Yeah, that's Prompto," Cor murmured against his shoulder. "If he suddenly found words there, I'd doubt it. But this bumbling nervous mess? Definitely Prompto."

Maybe to someone else, Cor's words would have been insulting. Maybe someone else would have been bothered and gotten huffy. Prompto, at the moment, was too relieved to see Cor again. Cor, the man who had been like a father to him for the entire time that he was alive. Cor, the man who had taught him to shoot and saved him from parents who wanted to sacrifice him to a daemon. He could have called Prompto any name in the world and Prompto wouldn't have cared. He'd have taken it, happily, because he was just so happy to be around Cor again.

Prompto reached his arms up and hugged Cor back. Against his volition, his wings joined in the hug, enveloping Cor in a warm and intense hug. "H-hi, Cor."

"'Bout time," Loqi teased with a snort.

Cor was a little bit taken aback by the wings, Prompto could see. The hug loosened for a second, and he looked from one side of Prompto to the other, at the long white wings, and then laughed a soft note. "Angel?" he asked.

Prompto nodded.

"Makes sense. Where's Noct? And Gladio and Iggy?" Cor asked.

Okay... that was a little bit surprising. Cor had outlived him. If anything, _he_ should have been the one asking _Cor_ where the others were. Cor asking him meant that... Prompto didn't get to finish that thought before Cor interrupted his thought process again.

"They're not with you." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and Cor's surprise was surprising to Prompto in turn.

Prompto shook his head no. "I haven't... it's been two hundred years since I've seen any of them," he insisted. "So...s-so Noct never came back here?"

Naively, in the back of Prompto's mind, he'd been hoping that Noctis had come back. He knew the information that he'd gotten from Ravus mentioned Cor and Clarus looking for missing members of their hunting team, but in the back of his mind, he'd hoped that maybe Noctis had found his way home; that maybe they were talking about a _different_ hunting team. A hunting team that they'd developed in the two hundred years since Prompto had died. Quickly, he was coming to see how stupid that thought was.

"No, kid," Cor answered. "Noct never came back here. And neither did Iggy or Gladio when we sent them after you two."

Prompto was about to ask how that could have happened, when Ravus peeled his wing back and looked at Cor and Prompto. "Pardon the intrusion, but I suspect that this conversation is one best had inside the cabin? Unless, of course, Mr. Leonis wasn't going to invite us in," he pointed out.

Cor appraised Ravus for a few seconds, and Prompto recognized the expression as his mentor trying to get a read on Ravus' personality. A few seconds passed, and Cor nodded his head, easing out of Prompto's hug and beckoning for them to come back to the cabin. "Clarus and Regis are out with our team on a hunt. Some ghouls terrorizing the city. Should be back soon," he told them. "But you're welcome to come in. You eat?"

"We don't have to, but-"

Just as quickly as Loqi had answered, Prompto cut him off with a declaration of, " _Regis_? He's... he's with you?!"

Chuckling softly, Cor nodded his head. "Yeah. Got sent down shortly after you died, actually. After Clarus and I got turned. Called it guardian angel duty, but Clarus thinks he told Elysium where to go and how to get there," he mused.

"Like these two did," Loqi answered.

That didn't seem to surprise Cor, and he turned his head to look at Prompto. "Can't say I'm shocked. From what Regis tells us, it's not exactly a proper Elysium up there," he mused.

Ravus laughed softly. "That is what I would call a rather substantial understatement," he told Cor.

"Regis is like that, though," Prompto remarked under his breath. "At least he was back when I was, y'know. Alive. He didn't like to make things sound completely bad when he wasn't sure if it was. Plus, he always liked to make the best out of a bad situation. He could always cheer everyone up when things were going bad."

Cor nodded and chuckled softly. "Hasn't changed a bit," he announced.

That was more of a relief than it should've been, probably. Prompto couldn't help but smile, smoothing a hand over his hair and brushing his hat from the top of his head. His hair was a mess underneath, but he didn't care. At the moment, he was endlessly relieved to hear that his time in Elysium hadn't turned Regis into a stuffy, boring person like most of the other angels were. Ravus _still_ showed signs of that, as much as Prompto and Loqi were still trying to work him past it, so knowing that there was someone else who hadn't really been adversely affected by the whole 'being an angel' thing was nice.

Once they got to the cabin, Cor pulled a pouch of blood from the fridge for himself, and told Prompto, Ravus, and Loqi to help themselves to the food in the kitchen. Loqi took the offer instantly. Ravus simply took a cup of tea. Prompto, though, was more concerned with information. Namely, information on the rest of his friends.

That curiosity only doubled when Cor explained that Gladio and Ignis had been dispatched to search for Prompto and Noctis, and never came back. Admittedly, in the pit of his stomach, he'd always worried that maybe something bad had happened to Noctis that night. Now he knew. Noctis had never come back to the cabin, and Gladio and Ignis had been sent to look for the two of them. Not only that, but _they'd_ gone missing, too. Logic dictated that they'd all either died, or been turned to vampires. The only flaw in that logic was that Prompto hadn't heard anything of any of them in Elysium, and Cor hadn't found them on Eos.

"Is it possible that one—or perhaps all—of them could have made daemon deals?" Ravus asked after a particularly long sip of tea. "Not to bring up the terribly unpleasant elephant in the room, but you all seem to be tiptoeing around that possibility, and that would certainly account for the fact that none of you have seen them over two hundred years."

Cor nodded his head. "We'd considered it," he answered, watching as Loqi sat at the table with a massive chickatrice and goat cheese sandwich. "Iris has insisted, every single time that we've brought it up, that none of them are foolish enough to-"

" _Iris is still alive?_ " Prompto exclaimed, loudly enough to jump everyone in the room.

Once the surprise wore off, Cor laughed softly and nodded his head. "Yeah," he told Prompto. "We've got a witch working with us, and she offered all our mortals an immortality spell. Iris is still vulnerable. She still bleeds, she can still die if she's seriously injured or sick. She doesn't age anymore, though. Forever twenty-five. She's actually out there with Clarus and the rest of our crew right now."

Iris was still alive. Iris was actually still alive. Prompto was shocked speechless, so much so that it temporarily distracted him from questions about Noctis and the others, and the possibility that they'd made a daemon deal. Temporarily. Now that his mind was back on it, though, he looked at Cor in question.

Of course, Iris had to be right. There was no way that Noctis or any of the others would make a daemon deal. They weren't that stupid. Daemon deals were never worth it in the end, because daemons always made sure that they were the only ones that came out of them winning. What other options were there, though? If they'd been turned into vampires, there was a chance that they were all wandering Eos together, and then it was only a matter of time before Prompto found them all again. Or, maybe they'd all just missed each other in Elysium. Sure, Prompto went to the gates once in awhile to wait, but he couldn't go every day. If he missed it... Elysium was massive. It was completely possible that they'd just missed each other.

"Iris has to be right," Prompto announced. "None of 'em would make a daemon deal. They all know better."

None of the others (especially Cor, which was surprising to Prompto) seemed sure of that. Cor simply drained his blood pouch and shrugged his head to the side. He didn't say anything else, just put the pouch in the garbage and glanced down at the table. "If not that, then I'm not exactly sure where they've been over the past two centuries," he admitted.

No. No, Prompto wouldn't believe it. There was no way that people as good, as honest, kind, and _good_ , as Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio were had ended up in the Abyss. They didn't deserve it. Of course, it wasn't like Elysium was great either. "It's always possible that they did what Ravus and me did. And what Regis did," he pointed out. "Went up to Elysium, saw what it was like, and left?"

"Without you?" Cor asked, looking directly at Prompto. "Noctis especially."

The words caught Prompto by surprise, and he smoothed a hand through his mess of hair, turning to look back down at the table. "I mean... maybe he didn't know I was there. Right? M-maybe he just didn't know." Prompto leaned forward against the back of the chair and rested his chin on his folded hands.

Cor frowned. "Wherever he is, we'll find out eventually. What's really important right now is... I'm really glad to see you, kid. Regis and Clarus will be, too. And Iris. I suspect she'll cry," he mused with a little grin. "We were thrown for a loop when you guys all disappeared. Even worse when Clarus and I had to disappear for a couple of weeks after we were turned, so we didn't hurt anyone. Iris and Cid were by themselves, and Iris was too young to hunt. Cid was too old. They almost had to close up operations. That's why we expanded after we came back. Filled the ranks with immortals."

Cid. Prompto had noticed a complete lack of the old man. Cid had always kept their equipment in top shape, but even the last time Prompto remembered seeing him, he was old. He could only assume what happened there. "So... Cid's..."

"Yeah," Cor answered sadly.

Cid was gone. Prompto frowned. "When?" he asked.

"Twenty-five years after everyone went missing," Cor explained. "We were all pretty crushed, and his granddaughter Cindy kept insisting that we let our witch put him under a youth spell, or something for immortality like Iris had, but Cid didn't want to. He was tired. He kept saying that one of us had to be mortal. So, he spent his last twenty-five years training Cindy to do what he does, and Clarus, Regis, and I trained her to hunt. She and Iris are a pretty good team."

It was still sad, that Cid was gone. Someone else Prompto had missed in Elysium. It made sense. Elysium was huge. _Massive_. Like a giant, bustling, city where someone could wander around for the rest of their existence and never see the same angel twice. It housed every good soul that died over the course of history. Of course, it was possible for Prompto to never have crossed paths with the others. Sad, but possible. That was the hope that he was holding onto. He didn't care how unreasonable it was; how little sense it made. There was no other option. None at all.

Prompto was about to ask how _Cor_ was, since they'd done a lot of talking about all the others, but he didn't get a chance. The doorknob turned and the door opened, and into the room came a familiar but slightly matured voice. "Those ghouls did _not_ wanna die, Cor. Crowe was awesome, though! Trapped 'em with a-"

Like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place, Prompto could almost identify the moment when Iris spotted and recognized him. She went completely silent, froze—preventing any of the others from coming into the cabin—and gasped an audible noise. "P-Prompto?" she squeaked, as she dropped her arms and dashed into the room.

"Hey, Iris..." Prompto waved, watching her as she approached.

It was funny. The woman standing before him was _definitely_ Iris. The thing was... she was a _woman_ now. It was probably weird for Prompto to think that, but the last time he'd seen her, she'd been just fifteen. Of course, it had been two hundred years, so truthfully, she probably _shouldn't_ have been alive. It was surprising all the same, though. The little Iris he remembered wore tartan skirts and braid crowns. Not a black hoodie, torn jeans, and long, half shaved hair. She looked like the female version of her older brother now. It was surprising... but it was unmistakably Iris.

Especially when she threw her arms around Prompto's neck, hugging him tightly and eagerly. Prompto laughed a soft note, standing up and wrapping his arms around her in return. Just like with Cor, his wings followed his arms partially against his volition. "Nice to see you."

"Nice to see me?" Iris' voice cracked against Prompto's shoulder. "Nice to _see_ me? I could hit you!"

A soft, familiar voice laughed from behind her. "That would be rather difficult, Iris, with your arms wrapped so tightly around his neck, no?"

That voice had Prompto snapping his head up from where it rested against Iris' shoulder, staring wide-eyed at the door where a procession of people was walking in. Most of them he didn't recognize. Five people, one of whom was barely visible behind a pair of grand black and golden wings. Those black and gold wings, however, were attached to someone who Prompto never thought he would ever see again. Prompto loosened his grip on Iris just slightly, but his friend didn't return the favor. She clung to him, cursing him out against his shoulder, and leaving Prompto staring at who should have essentially been a ghost.

Sure, Cor had mentioned that Regis was with them. 'Guardian angel duty,' he'd called it. Seeing him, and seeing the grand wings that spread out from his back—wings that put even the span of _Ravus'_ wings to shame, for that matter—was a shock to Prompto. He'd expected to see Clarus and Cor. He'd prepared himself for that. Regis, though... he hadn't had time to come to grips with the fact that Noctis' father was around again.

"Come now, Iris," Clarus told her gently. "Don't you think you're being a little selfish? We'd like to say hello to Prompto, too."

Iris grumbled something akin to, "see him? I wanna kill him, daddy! I wanna kill him for going and dying on us!"

"Truly, Iris?" Clarus asked her, laughing fondly. "Isn't that somewhat counterproductive? If you kill him for dying on you, then you're back to square one again."

Heaving a sigh, Iris rolled her eyes and nodded. "Yeah, yeah," she agreed, finally releasing Prompto from the hug. "Still wanna punch you later, though..." Even as she spoke confidently, she was wiping tears from her eyes as she turned into the arms of a blond, curly-haired woman and cried some more.

Prompto wanted to respond, but he was still a little too dumbstruck to register anything that was going on around him. Instead, he stared, awestruck, at Regis and Clarus. Clarus, he expected to see. Clarus looked exactly the same, and Prompto was grateful to see him. Regis, on the other hand... Regis looked almost ephemeral. More so than Prompto. More so than even _Ravus_. He looked exactly like Prompto remembered him. The same smile, the same ashen beard and hair, the same face. Similar to Noctis' face, and it always used to show Prompto how _incredibly attractive_ his best friend would be when he got older.

"Hello, Prompto," Regis spoke gently. "I think it's a little strange for you to look at me like I'm a ghost, given our circumstances, don't you?"

Despite everything, Prompto couldn't help but laugh softly. "S-sorry. It's just... on the list of 'people I never thought I'd see again,' you were, uh... pretty close to the top," he admitted. Then, he stepped forward, watching as a small blond woman snaked her way between Regis' wing and the door frame.

Regis, after laughing at Prompto's comment, looked at the woman. "Ah, you should have told me that I was blocking entry, Lunafreya."

Before Prompto could even react, Ravus' voice hit his ears. Nothing but a soft whisper, though it definitely held a decent share of shock. "Did you just say..." A long pause, during which Prompto turned around to see Ravus staring, stunned, at the woman who'd just walked past Regis. "Lunafreya?"

Even if Prompto hadn't known Ravus' sister's name, just from the way that he was staring at her like the sun and moon both rose and fell in her eyes, Prompto would have known that Ravus had finally found his long lost sister. His quest to find her was a minor part of why they traveled. For the most part, it was to pick up messes that Bahamut and the Astrals refused to address. Minor bits, though, were for this exact moment. Prompto reuniting with people he'd thought to be long dead, and Ravus reuniting with his sister. Eos was a grand planet, and two hundred years of searching was culminating into this moment.

The pair of them stood, gaping at one another like they weren't exactly sure they could believe what they were seeing. Prompto, too, was surprised. Stunned. His own situation, his own reunions, were obviously still in his mind, but in that exact second, he was endlessly happy for Ravus. His search was over. His reason for leaving Elysium—the fact that his sister wouldn't be allowed in when her existence ended—was worthwhile now.

"We'd heard Lunafreya mention a brother," Clarus spoke from beside Regis, "but we never expected to be seeing him. She mentioned Elysium, and we assumed..."

Loqi snorted a soft laugh. "Ravus is stubborn," he mused. "He wouldn't stay if Lunafreya wasn't allowed in." 

The woman spoke, though tears lined her eyes and her voice was shaky. "Of course, he wouldn't. Nor would I have, were roles reversed," she told them, before throwing her arms around her brother's neck and hugging him tightly.

Prompto felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Regis pointing over his shoulder to the door. "Prompto. A word, if you don't mind? I'm sure your mind is still catching up with everything happening, but I have some... rather burning questions for you. If you've got a moment," he added.

It didn't take a genius to tell Prompto exactly what those questions were, and because of that, he was a little bit anxious to answer right away. Questions for Prompto likely had to do with the night he died, and Noctis, and what exactly had happened to Noctis. The problem was that Prompto didn't have _answers_ , beyond the fact that Noctis had disappeared.

"Besides," Regis continued, "this room is somewhat crowded. I believe it's Lunafreya's night to patrol the grounds, but I suspect she will be otherwise occupied. So, I'd appreciate it if you accompanied me."

Prompto clamped down on his lower lip, but nodded his head in response, before following Regis out of the cabin and into the cool night air. It was nice here. Comfortable and temperate. The moon was out and bright in the sky, and the stars speckled it, almost as though Prompto could see the whole galaxy if he looked up. Normally, it was the type of thing that would make him fly up as high as he could to try and reach the stars. Tonight, though, clearly that wasn't in the cards.

Instead, he turned to Regis and looked at him with concern in his eyes. The question was coming. Prompto knew it was. It couldn't just _not_ come after all of this pretense. He almost burst at the seams, vomiting all of the information—everything he remembered about the night he died—to Regis. Almost. Before he got the chance, though, Regis stepped forward in a pair of large and sweeping steps, and pulled Prompto to him in a gentle but eager hug.

"Don't be tense," Regis whispered gently against Prompto's hair. "I do want to ask you about what happened the night you disappeared. That much is true. Please don't be tense about it, though. Nothing you can say will make me angry, Prompto. I swear it. I merely hope that you have some sort of clue as to where my son is."

That was the problem, though. Prompto, though he couldn't resist throwing his arms around Regis in return, froze up a little bit more. He wanted to give Regis details. He _wanted_ to be able to tell Regis where Noctis was. More than anything in the world, he wished he could. The truth was that he had no idea. So, instead of speaking up, he simply clung to his best friend's father all the tighter, and tried as hard as he could to will the words to come to him. He wanted the courage to explain; he _needed_ the courage to tell Regis that he'd died and left Noctis without a partner.

But he was afraid.

Regis pulled out of the hug and placed a hand on Prompto's chin, forcing him to make eye contact, and speaking gently. "Prompto, I will swear it again. Nothing you can say will make me angry. Nothing. I am thrilled beyond all reason, to know that you're okay," he insisted.

"But you want to know what happened," Prompto spoke in a shaky voice, trying to will tears away.

With a nod, Regis lowered the hand from Prompto's chin and placed it on his shoulder. "The mystery of what happened to Noctis has plagued me for almost two hundred years, Prompto. Cor and the others had no explanation for what happened to any of you. Not Ignis and Gladio. Not you. Not Noctis. I suspect that the only one who has any clue what happened to any of them... is you," he explained.

Prompto frowned, shook his head no, and turned to look at the ground. "I... I don't," he answered. "I wish I did. I died. We got separated in the woods, running from the vampires, because we went in without backup-" A wash of shame flowed over him then, and he still refused to meet Regis' eye- "and they caught me. And killed me. The last thing I remember... is hearing his voice." Tears flowed down his cheeks now, as he forced himself to look up at Regis and face what had happened. "By the time Leviathan and Carbuncle showed up to bring me to Elysium... Noctis was gone."

There was a strange expression on Regis' face right then. It wasn't anger, or even really frustration. No, it was more a face of revelation and understanding. He brushed some of Prompto's hair from his face, and pulled him in for another gentle hug. "Quite a tired act, Carbuncle and Leviathan, no?" he chuckled humorlessly.

The words and the expression didn't match. Regis had looked like he'd just realized something, and then his next words were about Carbuncle and Leviathan? Prompto lifted his head, eased out of the hug, and looked Regis in the eye. "Yeah," he answered. "B-but, it looked like... it looked like you'd figured something out..."

"I did," Regis answered simply.

Prompto's brows knit together, as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "What is it?" he asked.

With a half-amused laugh, Regis hummed a soft note and explained, "I believe I have an idea why my son has been nowhere to be seen for two hundred years, Prompto."

At that, Prompto's eyes shot open and he looked Regis directly in the eye. "Why? He's in Elysium, right? He just left and-"

"No, Prompto. You explained that you were killed, yes? And that the last thing you heard before dying was his voice?"

"Yeah," Prompto answered with a nod.

Regis sighed. "And the next thing you remember is the tired old good-cop-bad-cop routine," he continued.

Prompto just nodded.

"If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that my foolish, wonderful son tried to trade his soul for yours," Regis answered simply.

Except that was stupid. Wasn't it? "No. There's no way Noct would do that, sir. R-Regis. There's no way he'd give his soul to a daemon, when there was no guarantee that it would work, and daemons lie anyway, and-"

Stopping Prompto with just a quirk of his eyebrows, Regis shook his head no once Prompto trailed off. "Unfortunately, there is absolutely a way that Noctis would be foolish enough to do that, Prompto. Recklessness, and the fact that he saw you dead, would without a doubt spur him to make a decision like that. Unfortunately, it sort of runs in his family," he added with a knowing half-smile.

Prompto didn't feel like smiling, though. Especially not if it meant there was a chance that Regis was right, and that Noctis had actually traded his soul to a daemon in an attempt to save Prompto. "But... he's got to know that I wouldn't want him to-"

Once again, Regis stopped Prompto mid-sentence with a shake of his head. "That doesn't matter, ultimately. Prompto, you know my son as well as I do. Perhaps better. You saw him deal with his grief when I passed, did you not?" he asked.

Dealing with his grief was an overstatement. Noctis hadn't really dealt with his grief. He'd bottled it up and tried to deal with it in his own mind, rather than sharing anything. From there, he'd turned it into vengeance and that was ultimately what started the hunt for the clan of vampires that had killed Prompto, too. When it came to them, when it came to a situation like that, with the vampires who had _already_ taken Noctis' father, would he be rational? No. He wouldn't. So, with that thought in Prompto's mind, Prompto knew that it was more than reasonable to think that Noctis would trade his soul, even knowing that Prompto wouldn't want it.

"So, you think he's a daemon..." Prompto asked dismally.

Regis shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure, but I think, if I know my son at all, that it's a decent possibility. The only problem, of course, is that in order to find out, we'd have to conduct a search for any information whatsoever on Noctis... and we wouldn't know where to begin."

It didn't matter. It didn't matter at all. Prompto had searched for any kind of clue about _anyone_ on the team for centuries. When he'd finally found the bounty on Cor and Clarus—something he still needed to tell the others about, but he had time—it was a small ray of hope. If it took a hundred more centuries, a thousand, a _million_... Prompto wouldn't rest until he knew where Noctis was.

Before he got a chance to vocalize that resolve to Regis, though, a familiar voice—another that he never thought he would hear again—rang out in the clearing around them.

"Perhaps we can be of some assistance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little late, and I'm sorry about that! Hit a little bit of a writing funk, but hopefully I'm past it now!
> 
> I hope this chapter is worth the wait! The reunion is coming soon! :o

**Author's Note:**

> FIND ME! ♥  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/lizibabbles) ;; [tumblr](http://lizibabbles.tumblr.com/)


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